The Importance of Crayons
by ThoseShadows
Summary: If someone had asked her four months ago what she was going to do after graduating from university, Mai would have had a thorough plan prepared for them that would detail her ascent to success. Fast-forward a month and a half later, and that plan shattered into a million pieces. The future had something much different in store for her. And she had no idea what she was going to do.
1. Prologue

_A/N:_ _Hey folks! Here it is! The beginning of The Importance of Crayons! Welcome back to my returning readers and welcome to those who are new.  
_

 _Yasss. I am so excited about this fan fiction and can't wait to get even more into it. It probably will not be updated as quickly as my previous story, Business Better Left Unfinished, but it will be for a good reason. This is going to be much more involved and require research into some of the field I am going to delve. I want it to be accurate, as well as captivating. Don't worry though! I promise that does not mean it will take an eternity in between postings! I decided that I will publish a new chapter when I finish the chapter directly after it so I always have motivation and a stockpile to fall back on. Which means that yes, chapter one is also finished! Now onto chapter two. :)_

 _I encourage you to take the time to read the bolded bits below. It has a lot of information that I feel is important. That being said,_

 _I truly hope you enjoy it!_

 ** _Disclaimers :  
1.)_** _I first and foremost do not own Ghost Hunt._

 **2.)** _T_ _his fan fiction is going to be laced with some heavier themes and concepts (references to drinking, insinuations of things sexual in nature, etc.). What I have now has touches of adult themes, but I do not believe it warrants an M rating as it is really rather mild._ _However,_ _some of the themes may go beyond a T rating as the story progresses, so it may eventually shift to M._

 ** _3.)_** _This takes place in the future after the end of volume 12. It will **not** be following the cannon sequel. I just want everyone to know that! It's pertinent to the plot. Also, I feel it is worth noting that I absolutely acknowledge that the Mai-Gene-Naru debacle is not anywhere near as controversial as it is in a few of my fics. I choose to take it in that direction though because that's what works best for the story. The wonderful beauty of fan fiction! Naru's 'rejection' is not going to be a focal point of this fic though. It's merely a passing event.  
_

 ** _4.)_** _Because this takes place in the future, there is a chance some of what happens might appear slightly OOC at first, but that is because they have gotten older. I'm projecting how they may develop as people as the time passes, given the circumstances of the fic. I actually really like the way the characters are turning out; it feels real and believable. They will, of course, still be themselves, just with a few personality/character developments that are the result of time! (For example, I know that 17-year-old Mai [very much like my 17-year-old self] would not go out drinking, but 22-year-old adult university student Mai very well might go out for a good time [again, very much like my 22-year-old self]. Behavior and attitudes definitely can change in six years, at least a little! I am trying my best to reflect the reality of that while keeping them the good ol' characters we know and love. Also just to clarify I'm not a "wild child" myself but I occasionally like to go out and have some fun, so I do not feel like it is unreasonable to see aged characters doing that as well. I hope all of this makes sense, AH!)_

 ** _5.)_** _After much deliberation, I have decided to incorporate just a couple of OCs. I know people may have mixed feelings about OCs (I admit I can be a skeptic myself sometimes), but the ones I have play integral roles in the plot. I've fleshed the characters out thoroughly so they feel 3-dimensional and dynamic rather than cliche and flat.  
_

 ** _And now, without further ado..._**

* * *

 ** _The Importance of Crayons  
By: ThoseShadows  
_** _Romance, Supernatural, Drama_ _  
_ _Rated T for some adult themes and mild language._

 **Prologue**

The uproarious applause overwhelmed Mai Taniyama as she proceeded before the stage with her fellow graduating classmates of the University of Tokyo. The thunderous roar routed her to the core, but even so she found the energy invigorating. Pride swelled in her chest; this was _her_ day. Four years of hard work were about to pay off, and it felt extraordinary. She took a second to gaze around at the sea of black and blue robes surrounding her. Not everyone looked as excited as she, and Mai just could not understand why. They were able to step back from the chaos and drudgery of their lives for just a moment to honor _themselves_ and the fruits of their labor and research.

Perhaps she was just too much of a stupid nerd, she thought.

She stopped in front of her assigned chair in the procession, awaiting the cue from the chancellor to take a seat. Mai hoped it would be soon; she had been on her feet for several hours waiting for the ceremony to begin and her toes were angrily rebelling against the confinements of her slightly too-tight black flats. The last of her classmates filed into their positions, and at long last, the forthcoming alumni sat with a synchronized _fwish_ of their robes.

Mai took advantage of the reprieve to covertly slip off her shoes. She would have plenty of time to restore feeling to her feet before the corpus of congratulatory speeches ended. Flexing her sore toes instinctively, she straightened the cap on her head and glanced around the crowd to see if she could spot her "family" among the onlookers. It did not take long before her eyes fell upon Ayako, Yasuhara, and Bou-san, whom she guessed had been trying to get her attention for some time now because Bou-san was on his feet waving wildly. She gave him a subtle wave back, appeasing him enough to sit down again.

She was glad they were there to support her. The days where so many of the former SPR Japan members could gather all at once were few and far-between. Her heart sunk a bit, weighed heavily with nostalgia from her ghost hunting days. She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them intently, tuning out the ongoing speech.

SPR had shut down approximately six years ago at the discovery of the body of Eugene Davis, the identical twin of her friend and former boss Oliver Davis. Though, Oliver still felt like a foreign word on her tongue even after all these years. He would simply always be her narcissistic Naru to her. She knew he truly was not a narcissist but rather one of the most (secretly) selfless people she knew, but the word had since turned into an unorthodox term of endearment, losing its offensive nature.

Though her time at SPR was little more than a year, she formed some of her most meaningful memories and friendships. The group's disbandment had broken her heart, but she knew it was inevitable and did her best to cope with it. Initially, she kept in pretty close contact with the majority of the team—especially with the friends who sat in the audience cheering for her. But over time, those relationships changed, as well.

Ayako had her own formal—and very successful—career as a doctor to focus on, which consumed a great portion of her time. She still made time for Mai (for which she was very grateful), but the number of times they saw one another shifted from bi-weekly to bi-monthly at best. Between school and the hospital, life had a tendency to get in the way. Mai tried to look on the bright side, though, because that made the shopping and dinner dates together even more special because they could not take one another for granted.

Bou-san stuck around for a little while after SPR's closing, but ended up leaving a few months later to travel full-time with his rock band. When he was living in town, she, Ayako, and Yasu would get together frequently, but after he left, she was lucky to see him once every three months. Even when he was visiting, however, Ayako always seemed to be "too busy" to see him. Mai hadn't a clue what had happened between the two of them before his departure, but she did not imagine it was anything pleasant. Luckily he figured out—in his old age, Mai would jest —how to use email, eventually progressing to texting and video chat, so they were still able to communicate fairly well. Even still, she really did miss seeing him in person. He gave the best (albeit nearly asphyxiating) hugs.

Out of the entire SPR team, Mai had remained in closest contact with Yasu. They saw one another regularly, especially once Mai graduated high school and joined him at UTokyo. He had graduated a year prior to her with an undergraduate degree in law and economics with the eventual intention of going off to law school to become a practicing barrister. But, he decided first to intern at a law practice for a year or so to gain some experience before diving in head first.

She would definitely consider the two of them best friends; throughout her four years of university, he was her continuing source of motivation, humor, and sanity. He gave her a healthy balance of an academic and social life, letting her study when she needed to but dragging her out on the town to get a taste of the true "university experience," as he called it. Now age 22, she was by no means a wild child (and neither was the blasé Yasu), but the two of them had their fair share of dubious moments together as they grew older. There was a time or two where perhaps blowing off their course work to go out dancing was unwise (especially because they always guilted themselves into completing the work once they returned home at dawn—the two of them shared that neurotic moral conflict), or perhaps a few instances she'd had one drink too many…

She shook her head to dispel those memories. She did not want to think about them right now.

A year or so after Naru and Lin's departure, John returned to Australia on the request of his home parish because his posting in Japan was never meant to be permanent. Mai was sad to see her thoughtful blond friend leave after all their work together, but like the kind person John was, he often stayed in contact with SPR by mail. She thought it was sweet that he put in the extra effort when he very well could have used email. Masako, on the other hand, stopped talking to her indefinitely when she returned to filming her efficacious television show full time. They did not part on uncomfortable terms so to speak and she personally had no bad blood, but they were never exactly the closest of friends to begin with; what was there for them to continue discussing? Mai imagined her unremarkable life would sound even more dull on paper and that Masako would not take any interest in it. Her life paled in comparison to that of the celebrity lime light. Moreover, she supposed they viewed each other more like opponents than friends. The two mildly resented one another over their mutual feelings for her boss.

Naru…

Though it had faded significantly over time, the familiar niggle in her chest at the very mention of him still pestered her. Mai had not seen Naru since his exodus, just after she confessed her feelings to him in the woods by that wretched lake. He rejected her, as she suspected he would; she was already aware of her humdrum mediocrity, so one could imagine the indignity she felt after discovering the item of her fancy was a noted doctor of parapsychology. It was not the rejection that haunted her so much as the hollow words he'd left her: _Me, or Gene?_

He did not even give her the time to construct her answer. It was too late by the time she came up with the right words, and he already seemed convinced her affection for him was misdirected and actually meant for his laxer and physically-identical older brother.

It was _never_ Gene.

To that _very day_ , it was never Gene.

Perhaps at first she didn't know that for certain, but in the end she knew it was he her heart desired.

And as much as she hated a part of herself for it, she had never entirely moved on from him.

She regretted never explaining herself after the fact, but the words were buried deep now under six years of separation and personal growth.

Notwithstanding the fact that she had not seen hide nor hair of Naru for all those years, they did not part on wholly awkward terms. He never spoke of her confession; he'd locked it away in that impassioned moment and left it there. A caustic action, Mai thought, but it let them continue on as if nothing happened and that was better than never talking to him again. They had a proper, friendly good bye, and they even maintained communication for quite some time upon his return to Europe. He had surprised her with a phone call, which set a precedent for routine conversations every few weeks or so. The calls were professional in nature and somewhat stilted (as one would expect from an awkward idiot scientist), but it was almost as if there were some added stodgy unspoken tension that neither of them were willing to address.

To her displeasure, the calls became less and less frequent as he returned to his studies at Cambridge to finish his second doctoral degree, and they all but ceased when she began her own pursuit of university education. It was no one's fault (and if it was they were both equally culpable, she decided), their lives merely grew poles apart, and being an entire continent away sure did not make communication any easier. Like the nature of some relationships, they simply and gradually fell out of contact.

No ill-feelings, no anger, just the ilk of life.

She wondered if he would be impressed with her now.

His imprudent tea-slave was about to graduate from UTokyo's faculty of letters with a degree in English and a concentration in psychology, _and_ with exceptionally high marks.

The fact that he was a British parapsychologist had absolutely no influence on her choice in studies.

None at all.

At least none that _he_ would ever find out, anyway. She'd die before she admitted to it.

She finished her degree in four years (right on schedule, _thank you very much)_ , worked a part-time job on campus in the admissions office, and even received the opportunity to study abroad in her second year for a semester at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign in the United States. Her English skills flourished and she soon could speak it fluently, and she now had the certification to prove it.

If someone had asked her four months ago what she was going to do after graduation, she would have had a thorough, explicit plan prepared for them that would detail her ascent to great success. She'd already compiled a bundle of job applications for translator positions all over Tokyo, enough that she could wallpaper the little picturesque house in Daikan-Yama she'd been intent on renting for months. She would get to travel the world with whatever company was lucky enough to hire her. She was very proud of herself and what she had accomplished on her own (plus of course with the help of her friends, old and new), and she was ready to take the world by storm.

Fast-forward a month and a half later, and that plan shattered into a million pieces.

One _stupid_ decision erased all the lucidity and stability she'd corroborated for herself.

She had no idea what she was going to do.

Two and a half months ago, Yasu persuaded Mai to go with him and a small group of their friends to a controversial nightclub in the Roppongi neighborhood just inside of Minato to celebrate her impending graduation. Roppongi had a raunchy reputation world-wide, and quite frankly the idea of stepping foot in that firestorm scared her. It was a popular destination for both foreign and local 20-somethings, bursting with opportunities to drink your way into making poor decisions. But with his charm and witty logic, Yasu convinced Mai that they were young and one "wild" night in Roppongi would be fun and worth the experience, if just to say she'd been there; she was running out of aimless, carefree nights, after all.

He was going to make a great lawyer, she believed.

She accepted his reasoning and defended her ruling with the fact that she was smart, responsible, and with a group of people she knew well. Though honestly, she also got a strange rush from feeling edgy. Her moments of extreme spontaneity (unrelated to her habit of almost getting herself killed by spirits) were countable on one hand and she'd made it through those unchanged. What was just one more? What could happen, _really?_

The club was maddeningly loud and hot, chock-full of dancing, drunken bodies having what seemed like the time of their life. It was contagious. Mai and her friends bought a round of drinks before heading out to join the mass of gamboling people. One drink turned into two.

Three.

Four.

And that's when she met him. A strikingly tall, blond foreigner mingled his way into her circle of friends, greeting them first in poor Japanese and again in English. Mai placed the accent from somewhere in the United States. He had traces of a growing beard, giving him a faintly ragged look which was complimented by his remarkably green eyes. In sum, he was unquestionably attractive.

That stupid middle-school-crush sensation knotted Mai's stomach, which was very uncharacteristic. She'd been on a few dates with a few men the last few years, but nothing serious ever came of them. She just never felt a connection worth pursuing.

And now there she was, four drinks merry and swooning with her girlfriends over a man she met just seconds ago.

She was the only one in her present group that spoke fluent English, which caused her friends to jealously fade away, eventually leaving the two of them alone chatting wildly about a topic Mai could no longer remember. She did not remember much about him at all, really, other than that his name was Royce and he was studying abroad in Japan from the University of California. And that he bought her another drink while they continued to talk.

And then another.

She knew she should have quit, but she was so infatuated (and intoxicated) that she did not want to be rude and reject his advances. She liked him. Or the alcohol in her blood liked him. One of the two.

Not that it mattered anyway.

The next memory she could recall was how all of sudden they were in a sparsely populated side hall of the club, her head spinning and heart pounding, very willingly letting an attractive stranger kiss her feverishly and deeply. She permitted his smooth fingers to roam her body, dazing her more than she already was.

And then she was clumsily discarding her panties for him.

There was the frantic shuffling of clothes, the lifting of her skirt, and then the regrettably passionate moment they shared.

And then he was gone, leaving her in a drunken stupor whose hangover the next morning would be nothing compared to the contrition assaulting her conscious.

She'd made a mistake, and she thought she could simply leave it at that. Learn from her actions and move on. That was, until about a month later, a month and a half from graduation… The largest fruit of her blunder took root.

She had not told anyone yet; not even Yasu.

She knew she'd have to tell _someone_ soon. Probably Ayako. _Definitely_ not Bou-san.

She was running out of excuses for her emergent nausea and fatigue, and the reality was really beginning to set in.

She was scared and did not know what she was going to do.

She had looked forward to her graduation ceremony to distract her from what was to come and to remind her that she indeed was not entirely a fuck-up, but as the laudatory speeches came to a close and her peers cheered and applauded all around her, she could do nothing but place a hand delicately on her stomach, imagining that she could feel the heartbeat of the life that now grew inside her.


	2. Five Years Later

_A/N: Chapter one! Hooray. I've had it done for a little while now. Chapter two will be up before you know it! Honestly I gotta tell you platonic Mai and Yasu friendship is like one of my favorite things ever._

 _I hope you all enjoy it! I've been having fun writing this and coming up with the ideas. It's REALLY going to start unraveling soon! :D_

 _Enjoy! Please R &R!  
_

 _(P.S. I am writing a one-shot, too. Hopefully the kind that will wreck you. In the best way. Hehehehehe.)_

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

 **Five Years Later**

 _Thump._

Mai harshly leaned her forehead against the wall, as if she were trying to channel the exasperation out of her body and into the skirting boards of her living room. She was not ready to give up yet.

It had to come off.

She stood on her knees with a bucket of soapy water to her left, holding a sopping, well-worn scrub brush in her right hand. With her forehead still pasted to the wall, she felt cold, foamy water trickle down her arm and soak the edges of the rolled-up sleeve of her yellow, woolen sweater. She squealed and dropped the scrub brush, flapping her arm vigorously to shake away the water. She reckoned the texture of wet wool against flesh was a means of torture reserved only for the vilest people in the fiery pits of hell.

She sighed heavily and peeled her sweaty forehead from the wall, dropping back to sit on her knees to take a breather.

Pasta sauce, finger paint, grape juice, noodles galore; she had dealt with disasters much messier than this one!

So why was it so damn hard to scrub colored wax from the wall?

She would not allow herself to be bested by some wretched crayons.

She stared at the inexorable sketches in front of her. Had her son chosen to do this on paper, she would have considered it art that she'd proudly display on the refrigerator. But because the graphics now adorned the wall of the den, she did not consider it art. She considered it a pain in the ass. She shook her head. She had to hand it to him, though. He was stubborn, just like his mother. He really stuck to his devices. He adamantly denied that it was he who defiled the wall. He didn't know _who_ did it of course, it just most certainly was not him.

As frustrated as she was, she couldn't help but smile. If crayon-covered walls were her biggest issue, she considered herself very blessed.

Hisashi, who had just turned five-years-old at the beginning of that month, was normally a very well-tempered child, for which Mai was very grateful. He was not exempt from the temper tantrums and crying at the most inconvenient times in public (like all young children), but he ordinarily only acted out when he was tired. And thank the _heavens_ he was fantastic at taking naps.

She glanced behind her, observing him as he laid on the floor coloring (now on old sheets of paper). He had short, tousled hair in a deep chestnut shade, just like hers. He was healthy and well within the appropriate demographics for his age, but she could tell he would soon grow to be exceptionally tall and lean (despite his savage sweet tooth—also just like hers). His eyes glowed a brilliant green, which (thankfully) was the only unfortunate trace of his absent father. Otherwise, he looked irrevocably, unequivocally like _her_ son and no one else's.

It didn't feel like five years had passed since she gave birth to Hisashi. It had been a miserable pregnancy, honestly. Horrific morning sickness, swollen feet, frequent mood swings, the insatiable craving for arugula… She didn't even _like_ arugula! But perhaps worst of all, she had a constant fear of what was to come. She liked children, but to be frank, she knew next to nothing about them. What-if's and nagging questions plagued her mind, _especially_ in the first months of pregnancy.

What if she was a terrible mother?

What if she couldn't secure a job to support them? Who would want to hire a pregnant woman just coming out of undergrad with little to no job experience?

How often did they need fed? Did they need walked every day? How long should they be allowed to play? Are they allowed on the furniture?

' _You're having a baby, Mai, not adopting a puppy,'_ Ayako's voice echoed in her head. Mai flushed; that moment still embarrassed her even after all these years. She had just divulged her situation in full to Ayako, about two days after her graduation. She remembered it vividly.

' _See?! I don't even know the difference between a baby and a dog!' Mai cried, burying her face in her hands. 'I can't be a mother… I can't!' She looked up at Ayako, red-faced. 'I killed a cactus, Ayako. A_ cactus!' _Mai smooshed her face between her palms. 'For the love of God cacti don't even need attention,' she said, her voice muffled as she dragged her hands down her face in hopeless exasperation._

' _How did you manage to kill a cactus?' Ayako bemused. Mai groaned and buried her face in her hands again, ready to cry. 'I mean,' she immediately amended, trying to remove her foot from her mouth, 'Mai, please try and relax. Everything is going to be fine.'_

' _Fine?! I'm having a_ baby!' _she roared, sitting forward on her couch. 'A human child!' Ayako repressed a laugh. She immediately swallowed it as Mai's glare sent chills down her spine. After a moment, her gaze softened, her anger slowly being replaced by fear. 'I'm going to be a single mother, Ayako…' she said, voice barely a whisper. Tears welled in her eyes. 'I don't have a job, I don't have a home, I don't even have the help of the_ father.' _She spat the last word as if it were poisoned. 'I am alone…'_

 _Ayako moved from her seat next to Mai on the couch and kneeled in front of her to look at her eyes. She gently laid a hand on her shoulder._

' _Mai, you will never be alone. I'm here to help you, and I know Yasu and Takigawa will be there, too.'_

 _Mai hiccupped._

' _Do I_ have _to tell them…?'_

 _Ayako chuckled._

' _Mai, you realize they're going to figure it out on their own no matter what, right? If your sudden rotundness does not tip off those idiots, what certainly will do the trick is the screaming creature coming out of your—'_

 _Mai raised a hand abruptly to silence her._

'Please _do not finish that sentence,' she implored. 'I'm just…afraid…And embarrassed,' she added._

' _How about I go with you? I'm on your side no matter what. Would that help?' Mai nodded. 'The more people close to you know, the more support you'll get. More resources, too! Hell, you already have a doctor!' she laughed and stood up straight, gesturing proudly to herself. Mai cracked a smile. 'Good girl. We are all going to figure this out together, okay? I promise.'_

 _A few days later, like she promised, Ayako invited Yasu and Bou-san to her large estate and sat with Mai when she broke the news to them. It went better than Mai expected._

' _You are_ what _now?!' Bou-san shouted from the opposite side of Ayako, eyes bulging from his face. From surprise, anger, or disgust; Mai did not know._

' _Pregnant…' she repeated weakly, staring at her feet. Yasu simply stared at her, mouth agape._

' _But…' Bou-san stuttered. 'She…' he glanced back and forth between Ayako and Mai several times. Ayako remained stoic, daring him to finish his thought. 'She is just a little girl!' he cried, slumping a bit against the back of the couch._

' _I'm 22, Bou-san…'_

 _He blinked, staring at the ceiling._

' _No that can't be right…' he went quiet, counting on his fingers to calculate just where the time had gone. 'You're my little Mai! You shouldn't even know what sex_ is— _' Ayako whacked him upside the back of his head._

' _Don't you_ dare _shame her, Takigawa, or so help me I will hunt you down in your sleep and kill you,' Ayako seethed. 'She is an adult and it is her decision to—'_

' _Sorry, sorry, I know, I shouldn't have said that,' he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 'I didn't mean to make you upset, Mai. I apologize if I did,' he glanced over at her, visibly relieved when she shook her head that she was not mad at him. He reached around Ayako to put one of his big, warm hands on her shoulder._

' _I'm sorry if I disappointed you…' she whispered. He squeezed her shoulder tightly._

' _No, don't apologize! I'm not disappointed, I swear,' he assured. 'I'm just surprised. And confused,' he admitted. 'Can you help me understand…?' he asked sincerely._

 _Mai explained the story to the two men thoroughly. When she finished, no one spoke for several minutes._

' _Please say something,' Mai begged as tears swelled in her eyes, the silence finally too much to bear. Bou-san blinked, staring blankly at the coffee table in front of them._

' _I'll kill him,' he declared. 'He is going to die,' he expounded._

' _Takigawa!' Ayako chastised. Mai waved a hand at her, giggling a bit through her tears._

' _No, it's okay,' she avowed. She appreciated his support, however pugnacious it was. Mai glanced at Yasu, who had yet to say a word that entire time. He was leaning over staring at nothing, resting his elbows on his legs with his hands folded and supporting his chin. He looked lost in his thoughts._

 _Silence settled among them again for another few minutes. Mai studied Yasu, trying to read him but failing miserably. He didn't move. He didn't blink. She wasn't even sure if he was breathing._

 _Bou-san cleared his throat, snapping Mai out of her stupor, but Yasu remained unmoved. Ayako and Bou-san exchanged a glance._

' _Coffee?' Ayako suggested, standing._

' _Like a date?' Bou-san inquired with a devious smile. Ayako pursed her lips._

' _I didn't say where I was going to pour it,' she retorted, turning to head into the kitchen. Bou-san hesitated, clearly perturbed by the implication of her threat._

 _He groaned and followed her through the door._

 _Mai again focused on Yasu, waiting for a moment to see if he would speak. When he didn't, she cleared her throat to find her voice._

' _Yasu…' she murmured. After a slight delay, he looked at her without moving from his perch on his hands._

' _Why didn't you tell me?' he asked gently. Mai was relieved he didn't sound angry._

' _I was scared, Yasu…' she whispered, shifting closer to him on the couch. 'When I found out—'_

' _No, that's not what I meant,' he sat up slowly. 'I mean, when it happened. Why didn't you tell me?' Mai paused to consider his question, not really sure what to tell him._

 _The only words she could manage were, 'Are you mad at me?'_

' _No!' he exclaimed immediately, slapping a hand on his knee for emphasis. 'Of course I'm not mad at you.' He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. 'I'm just sorry.'_

' _Sorry? Why?' she returned his gesture by wrapping an arm around his back._

' _For a few reasons, actually,' he mused, adjusting his glasses with his free hand. 'I'm sorry you struggled with this alone for as long as you did. I really wish I had known so I could've helped you…' he trailed off, voice tinged with guilt. 'I don't like to see you struggle like this. We're supposed to do all our struggling together; homework comrades for life!' He offered lightheartedly as he ruffled her hair playfully, trying to lighten the mood._

' _Hey!' Mai objected jokingly, trying to pry his hand from her hair. She really wasn't sure now why she hadn't told him. He always made her feel better. He returned his arm to around her shoulders._

' _But I'm also sorry that it happened at all…' he said, seriousness returning in full. 'I feel like there is something I could have done. Is it stupid that I sort of feel responsible?'_

' _More like absurd,' she corrected teasingly. 'This isn't your fault at all, Yasu.'_

' _I shouldn't have convinced you to go out that night,' he replied._

' _I made the decision for myself, Yasu. You didn't know that…something would happen. That guy and I got too drunk and made a bad decision. We both wanted it to happen. And that is not your fault,' she concluded. 'You don't have to protect me. I'm not weak.'_

' _I know that, dummy. I don't want to protect you because I think you're weak. I want to protect you because you're my friend.' He sighed. 'I expect you'd feel the same way if I got pregnant.'_

 _Because her emotions were already running high, what should've been a giggle turned into a cackling fit that caused her to double over. It must have been contagious because he immediately joined her, their bodies quaking from the laughter._

 _They laughed until no sound came out of their mouths, both of them clutching their stomachs and gasping for breath. After several gasps for air, Mai sat up straight and wiped some laughter tears on the back of her sleeve. Yasu took a deep breath to calm himself before speaking again._

' _I just don't want you to feel alone. Because you're not,' he finished, punctuating his statement with a flop back into the couch. Mai smiled weakly._

' _I know...' she responded, sinking back into the couch with him. 'Thank you…'_

' _Don't mention it,' he dismissed with a wave of his hand. He turned his head and looked at her stomach. 'You hear that? Uncle Yasu's here to save the day.'_

 _Mai rolled her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder, her earlier anxiety slowly starting to melt away. She felt the vibrations of his voice when he spoke._

' _We're going to figure this out together, okay?'_

Everyone more than delivered their promises. She was overwhelmed by all their love and support.

There was not enough time left in the world for her to thank them all enough.

Ayako acted as her medical specialist, and when she herself could not help Mai with an issue, she referred her to her very best associates. And as hard as Mai tried to prevent her from doing so, no matter how many times she protested, Ayako also disbursed a great deal of her medical expenses. She helped Mai hunt for an affordable apartment, finding a quaint two-bedroom complex exceptionally close to Ayako's home. Just in case, Ayako rationalized.

She also took it upon herself to spoil the baby rotten before it even entered the world. Before Mai knew it, she had accumulated a mountain of diapers, toys, blankets, bottles, and a number of other miscellaneous baby-related items. Mai eventually lost track. Once they determined the sex of the baby, Ayako would not stop buying modish baby boy clothes (he just _had_ to have them, she argued).

Until Mai could afford to pay her rent by herself, Bou-san insisted on covering her rent. Even though he was gone so much with his band or otherwise, he still wanted to help her in the best way that he could. He had the money, he had the means, so he paid her rent ( _no exceptions,_ he would insist). When he was in town, he often came to visit (both before and after Hisashi's birth).

She eventually took over the rent payments, so he searched for another way to help her out. He first insisted on cooking them dinner, but after a disastrous attempt or two, he conceded, defeated. However, Mai came to learn that Bou-san was indeed a mad baker, of all things. Who knew? So, when he would visit, he would always bring some artery-clogging delicacy. It was a small gesture, but she thought it was very thoughtful.

Directly after discovering her pregnancy, Yasu spent several evenings sitting down with Mai, helping her fill out job applications and searching for open positions that she could manage in her current state of affairs. Ultimately, it was he who helped land her a job. Through the law firm for which he interned, he heard of an opening for a clerical worker at a bilingual counseling and psychiatry center in Tokyo. The owner of the practice was a good friend of Yasu's boss.

The job entailed general secretarial work, but also the compilation, management, and translation of documents and patient files from Japanese to English and vice versa. Given her university credentials, the job seemed like a perfect fit. Not to mention the hours were reasonable and the pay was substantial enough to support both her and Hisashi comfortably. She interviewed for the job and as soon as she was extended the offer, she accepted without hesitation; she had worked there ever since.

It wasn't working for a grand company and travelling the world in luxury on their dime, but it would certainly do.

Her life was nothing like she imagined it would be.

But she would not trade it for the world.

She loved her job, loved her friends, and most of all, she loved her son. Stupid crayons and all.

In her reminiscing, she failed to notice the little boy abandon his drawing and shuffle away from his spot on the floor.

"Mommy?" a sheepish voice beckoned from directly behind her. With a startled jump, Mai shrieked and almost knocked over the water bucket beside her. She caught it at the last moment, her heart pounding so wildly she could feel it in her throat. She clutched her chest and took a deep breath before shifting on her knees to face her son.

"Hisashi! You scared mommy," she laughed a little, still trying to catch her breath.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to I promise," he scuffed his feet, looking away bashfully.

"I know sweetheart, it's okay. Did you need something?"

"Uh-huh," he started. "I'm sorry for lying to you before…" He looked up at her with guilt-ridden, innocuous eyes.

Mai smiled knowingly. She knew it would only be a matter of time before he came clean. He was too honest to keep up a lie for too long.

Notwithstanding the fact that last time he blatantly lied to her she threatened to never let him eat one of Bou-san's sweets ever again.

Maybe a bit extreme, but it worked.

"Thank you for apologizing, Hisashi," she acknowledged, reaching out and giving his tiny shoulder an affectionate squeeze. He gave her a goofy grin. "What has mommy told you about coloring _off_ your paper?"

He tilted his head uncomprehendingly.

"Not to do it?" he guessed. Mai nodded, still smiling.

"And are you going to do it again?"

"Oh!" his face lit up in understanding. "No mommy, that isn't what I'm talking about!"

Mai blinked.

"What? You're _not_ sorry about drawing on the wall?"

"Oh no, that wasn't me," he looked away to avoid her eyes, like he always did when he was being economical with the truth.

"Oh really?" Mai folded her arms.

"Nope," he affirmed stubbornly.

"Then what exactly are you sorry for, Hisashi?" she raised an eyebrow at him, impatiently tapping her fingers on her arm.

"For lying to you before," he repeated.

"Before _when?"_ she inquired, mellifluously encouraging information out of him.

"You know, _before,_ " he repeated again.

She was completely lost.

"I'm not sure mommy understands," she admitted. "What did you lie to me about?" He huffed indignantly.

"I lied a long time ago. _Before,"_ he clarified, fiddling with his shirt sleeve. "I made you think I was someone else for a long time." Mai narrowed her eyes.

"Who, sweetheart…?" she probed. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to concentrate.

"I don't remember. Please don't be mad at me!" his eyes glassed over and he crashed into her for a hug. He wrapped his short arms around her neck as best her could.

Mai was dumbfounded. What was he getting at? She draped her arms around him apprehensively.

"Mommy's not mad at you, sweetie, I promise," she replied, staring off into space behind him trying to comprehend this bizarre conversation.

"Good!" he exclaimed, letting her go. "Can I go finish coloring now pleeeeeease?" He fidgeted eagerly in her arms. She released him.

"Sure, Hisashi…" she replied, still staring out into space, thinking. "Go have fun…" He tittered happily and bounded off to finish his masterpiece.

Mai returned her attention to the besmirched wall. She dunked the scrub brush in the water absentmindedly, lost in her thoughts.

Kids say the darnedest things, don't they?

She raised the scrub brush to continue her toil, but stopped her arm mid-air, completely frozen. For an instant, she thought her heartbeat might have ceased.

For the first time, she surveyed Hisashi's drawing on the wall with great scrutiny. She had not paid it much consideration; her wrath at its discovery had redirected her attentions. It was a crudely drawn outdoors scene, which at first glance seemed innocent enough. The yellow sun was shining over a blue lake, which was surrounded by red and purple buildings. Cabins, she presumed. A group of seven orange stick figures and one black stood by the lake.

This felt hauntingly familiar.

But it couldn't be.

She could have just passed it off as a creative depiction of a large family camping trip. But one element of the drawing deeply disturbed her.

Right below the seven orange stick figures and directly next to the black one was a furiously scribbled yellow blob.


	3. He Said What Now?

_A/N: Two chapters in one weekend! Woo!_

 _Thank you to those who have left me reviews!_

 ** _Someone:_** _Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm really glad you feel like the characters are still themselves, despite the age gap. I'm definitely doing my best to keep the characters we know and love! I'm a particular fan of Yasu in this fic. I have a special place in my heart for him.  
 **Oxybry:** I'm glad you love it! I'm a huge fan myself of momma bear Ayako. It seems fitting.  
 **pennYnnep and nikfe2:** Guess you'll have to keep reading to find out for sure! ;)_

 _As always, I hope you enjoy! Please R &R!  
_

 _(This is me not shamelessly plugging my other Ghost Hunt works)_

* * *

 **Chapter Two:**

 **He Said What Now?**

Well into that evening, after she had tucked Hisashi into bed, Mai cocooned herself in fleecy blankets on the couch in the near-darkness of her living room. She needed peace—and perhaps a glass of wine. She laid on her side deep in thought staring at a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table, blankets wrapped up around her head like a flocculent bonnet. Her eyes flickered for a moment to the wall off to her right. It was cast in shadow, but she could still make out the silhouette of her son's unsettling artwork.

She'd given up on trying to scrub it off, partially because her arm was so sore it felt ready to fall off but also because a nagging feeling in the back of her mind told her to leave it be.

There was something missing. Something important.

But what?

Children let their creativity flow uninhibited, allowing them to draw imaginative pictures ad infinitum. Hisashi was no exception.

Her kitchen was covered in the pictures he'd drawn for her.

He had run out of paper and resourcefully chose the wall as his new outlet.

He drew a delightful nature scene. So what if it uncannily resembled one of her private memories?

This was normal child-like behavior, right?

Right.

It was probably nothing, she thought.

But…

This was not the first time something strange like this had transpired.

At first they were so far and few between that she hardly even noticed them, but as he grew older, the occurrences became more recognizable and frequent.

It was getting difficult to keep overlooking them.

The first instance she could recall occurred around the age of one and a half. Hisashi had just begun to string together words into simple sentences. They were normal watchwords every child mastered: "Me play," "food please," "go home." So on and so forth. Occasionally he'd throw out a word in English he'd heard her use regularly, like _work_ or _bus._ His grasp on either language at that age was very minimal, but of the two, he beyond a shadow of a doubt understood and expressed himself better in Japanese.

So one could imagine her shock when, during a trip to the market, Hisashi pointed to a knobby green kobocha and let the _English_ words _'people are pumpkins, mother'_ tumble from his lips.

And then Hisashi continued on as if he hadn't spoken a word.

The experience was so jarring that Mai nearly ripped open the bag of rice she had been holding. But at the same time, the moment was so fleeting, so bizarre, that she questioned whether or not it really happened at all. Maybe she had imagined it.

Children at his age did not understand all of the words they manipulated into sentences. More often than not, they simply parroted what they heard only to later associate them with their proper meaning. Hisashi _clearly_ was mimicking something he'd heard her say. That had to be it.

However, there were two problems with that logic.

One, he uttered the words with a formality and poise that should have far exceeded that of a child of 18 months.

Two, when the _hell_ did she ever talk about _pumpkins?_ In _English?_

She decided it was not worth the headache and let it go.

Another year and a half passed before the next noteworthy anomaly. In that meantime, the market incident was all but forgotten. Hisashi grew into a very social and inquisitive child, always asking Mai random (and frequently tactless) questions and talking about the whole ball of wax. He was quite the chatterbox.

One evening after dinner, while Hisashi laid on the floor watching some mindless television, Mai spoke to Yasu over the phone about their upcoming plans with Bou-san (who was returning to town for a few weeks). They spoke for quite a while, hashing out the details to make sure they were able to spend ample amount of time together with the old monk. When she finally hung up the phone, Hisashi sat up and glanced at her with a quizzical look, which was a warning that she should prepare herself for an onslaught of questions.

' _Who was that, mommy?' he asked, crawling his way over to the coffee table in front of her._

' _It was Uncle Yasu!"' she chimed._

' _Is he coming here?!' he shouted excitedly, using the edge of the table to stand._

' _Not today, sweetie,' she replied. His face fell. '_ But _he will be soon. With Uncle Takigawa," she added. His face lit up; she knew how much Hisashi loved him—and his cookies._

' _Uncle 'Awa!' he cried happily. In his wonder, he paused, looking quite pensive. Mai could see the gears turning in his head; his interrogating was not over. She smiled and sat back into the couch. 'Mommy…' he began, glancing curiously between the phone and her eyes. 'Have phones always been here?' Mai chuckled to herself at the peculiar question. She was curious to see where this conversation was going._

'' _No, sweetie. They were invented a long, looooong time ago,' she purposefully exaggerated her words, holding her arms as far apart as she could muster. 'They are quite old!'_

' _Was Uncle 'Awa alive when they made the first phone? Because he is_ really _old!' he declared. Mai snickered, making a mental note to remind Bou-san just how very 'old' he was when she saw him next._

' _Oh no, Hisashi, even Uncle Takigawa isn't_ that _old," she managed between fits of mirth. Hisashi tittered at her laughter, unsure of what was so funny, but was entertained nonetheless._

' _How come you have to use the phone to talk to people?' he probed._

' _Because otherwise mommy wouldn't be able to talk to her friends very often. They are too far away,' she explained._

' _Well_ I _didn't need a phone to talk to far away before,' Hisashi proclaimed proudly. Mai tilted her head, confused._

' _What do you mean, sweetie?' she asked, patting her leg to beckon him over to her lap. He ambled over and held his arms out to be lifted._

' _I didn't need one,' he repeated as she lifted him to her lap. He furrowed his brow, trying to concoct a better explanation. 'I had a phone in my head,' he said. She blinked._

 _It must have made sense in his mind, but his ingenuous explanation was lost on her._

' _A phone in your head?' she repeated, holding him close to her._

' _Uh-huh,' he verified. 'I used it to talk to him before.' He leaned his head against her shoulder._

' _Talk to_ who _before?' she prodded. He was not making sense. What was she missing?_

' _Dunno,' he punctuated his answer with a shrug. She opened her mouth to quiz him more, but her interrupted her. 'Why does broccoli smell like farts?'_

And with that the conversation was over.

She recalled the third episode occurring after only a six-month gap. Of the three, it was by far the most outlandish and distressing. It was around noon on a Wednesday, Mai remembered, because she had just picked up Hisashi from pre-school to take him home for lunch before running errands with him. Every Wednesday, Mai only worked half a day at the clinic, meaning she could retrieve her son at early dismissal instead of leaving him until 3:00 in the full-time after-school daycare like she normally needed to. Wednesdays became a special tradition for the two of them in which they would walk home and make lunch together (or rather, she would make lunch while he colored in his high chair), ran her weekly errands, and stopped for ice cream on the way home. Perhaps it seemed like an ordinary routine to everyone else, but Mai cherished these days. They were usually so pleasant.

But that day was everything but.

' _How was school, Hisashi?' Mai asked enthusiastically, holding tightly onto his hand as they strolled down the sidewalk towards home. She'd noticed he looked a bit glum when she arrived to pick him up, and she wanted to cheer him up._

' _Okay,' he replied. She looked down at him. The despondent gleam still clouded his eyes._

' _What did you do today?' she asked, hoping to encourage happy memories. She gave his hand a soft, reassuring squeeze._

' _I played with Hiro and Eito,' he responded._

' _Did you have fun?'_

 _He shrugged._

 _Mai frowned._

' _Is something wrong, Hisashi? Are you sad?' He said nothing, but his grip on her hand slackened. 'Hisashi…' Mai repeated._

 _He said nothing for a moment, but Mai could see his face contorting with thought so she remained silent and waited until he was ready._

' _They were talking about their daddies,' he revealed, scuffing his little feet on the ground as they walked. Mai's chest constricted very suddenly, sucking the breath right out of her lungs._

 _Oh boy._

' _I see…' she bit her lip, her mind taking off all at once in all the conceivable directions this conversation could go._

' _They asked about my daddy…' he said, looking up at her with forlorn eyes. 'Why isn't daddy here, mommy?'_

 _The question over-encumbered her heart, threatening to pulp it under the weight of an unanticipated guilt._

 _She was not prepared to have that conversation that afternoon._

 _She wasn't proud of that..._

 _She glanced warily at a road sign as they lumbered on, calculating the number of blocks left until they were home._

 _Six._

 _Too many to simply ignore the question until she had time to really sit and think about how to answer him._

 _Mai knew she would have to have this conversation with him some day, and perhaps she should have better mentally prepared for it, but she honestly did not expect it until he was at least a little older. He had yet to ask her about his father (considering just a year ago he was almost too young to even be speaking at all), so all she'd ever done to prepare for this moment was come up with some abject answer about him being an astronaut and living in space._

 _She supposed now that was probably not the best idea._

' _Hisashi…' she began. 'Your father…' she paused, and then sighed heavily. There was no use in downright lying. 'Your father doesn't live around here, sweetie…'_

 _That answer sounded even more pathetic out loud. She felt very queasy._

' _Why?' he questioned._

' _He lives in another country,' she explained, hoping it would appease him until further notice. He remained silent, focusing again on his feet. She exhaled soundlessly in relief, thinking it was over for now._

' _Hiro and Eito told me I don't have a daddy 'cause he doesn't love me,' he said after Mai's few moments of coveted hush, sadness now skulking into his voice. She angrily clenched the fist of her free hand._

 _Those little brats._

' _Hisashi, that's not true at all!' she countered immediately._

' _Then why is he not_ here?' _he demanded. He was beginning to sound very fraught._

 _What was she supposed to tell him?_

 _That mommy was stupid and didn't_ actually _know who his father was?_

 _That his father did not even know he existed?_

 _She was speechless._

 _She surveyed their surroundings, spying a spot of shade below a tree just a few feet away. She steered him over to the tree hastily, stopping in its shadow._

" _Mommy!" he wailed, tugging her hand to regain her attention. A few passersby imparted disdainful looks at her apparent lack of child discipline. She returned the favor with the nastiest scowl she could manage._

 _Screw them._

 _She returned her attention to her son, crouching down carefully to his level. She gripped his shoulders firmly._

' _I don't know, Hisashi…' she admitted softly. His wide green eyes bristled with tears. 'Sweetie, please don't cry…' she encouraged, squeezing his shoulders affectionately._

 _He wasn't having it. He let slip a wail and the tears spilled down his cheeks._

 _Crap._

" _He d-doesn't love m-me!' he yowled between sobs._

' _Hisashi—' she tried to interject._

' _Why didn't either of m-my daddies love m-me?!' he sputtered, raising an arm to wipe his snotty face on his sleeve._

 _A jolt of electricity coursed through her veins, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand._

 _She momentarily forgot how to speak._

' _What?' she wheezed. He continued to cry. Her grip on him slackened._

" _B-b-b-both—' he cut himself short with a fierce cough. She shushed him tenderly._

' _Hisashi, shhh…' she crooned, heart pounding. 'You only have one daddy…' She brushed a lock of his tousled chestnut hair away from his forehead._

" _No I don't I have two daddies and-and neither of them love me and-and-and th-they don't w-w-wan—" he hiccupped in the middle of the word, which only made his crying worsen._

 _Mai could do nothing but stare at him with her mouth agape. She was overwhelmed. Her child was screaming in the middle of the sidewalk, people were beginning to stop and stare, and her son was insisting he had two fathers._

' _Hisashi,' she said sternly, cupping her hands on both sides of his face. She wiped away some of his tears with her thumbs, but they were only replaced by new ones. He looked directly into her eyes, his now blood-shot and swollen. He tried to quiet down, but his body still shook with the stifled sobs and it broke her heart. She had never seen him that distraught. 'Hisashi…' she repeated, softer this time. 'You only have one daddy,' she reminded him. 'He lives in the United States, which is—'_

' _No!' he protested, stomping his foot. 'I have_ two _and they_ both _are from the United States! Why won't you listen to me mommy?!'_

' _Hisashi, you aren't making any sense!' she replied, voice harsher than she had intended. She gawked at him as he continued to weep, trying to figure out his rationale. She wracked her brain, trying to come up with something—_ anything— _that would clarify that disarray. 'How do you know you had two daddies, sweetie?' she asked, hoping he was not too agitated to answer._

' _I don't k-know!' he sputtered. 'I-I-I just have one now and I_ know _I had one before and he was mean!' he declared, wiping his face again._

 _A series of expletives echoed through her brain, inflating her already-elevated heart rate. Her face flushed a deep red._

 _She had no idea what else to say, so she scooped her precious, hysterical son into her arms and carried him the rest of the way home. She made it there in record time._

Events such as this occurred over the next two years, but none were nearly as disconcerting. They were just innocent enough that she could continue to play them off as Hisashi's inventive (and eccentric) imagination.

But then he went and scribbled all over the damn wall.

This was _not_ in any of the parenting books she read before his birth.

There was something unquestionably abnormal about her child.

Mai pulled the blanket over her head to muffle a despairing moan.

Without untangling herself from her blanket nest she sauntered her way over to her phone and absently punched in a number she knew by heart. As the line began to ring, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

" _Mai!"_ Yasu's voice answered from the other end. _"To what do I owe the pleasure?"_ She opened her eyes only to roll them, smiling just barely.

"Yasu," she sighed, cutting right to the chase. "Something else happened today."

" _What do you mean?"_ he queried. _"You mean with Hisashi?"_ She nodded even though he could not see her.

"Yeah…" she trailed off, not sure where she should begin. Yasu remained quiet for a few moments before finally interpreting the silence as his cue to say something.

" _This is the second time this_ month _that you've called me about something Hisashi has done…" he noted._ She groaned. _"Buttttttttt, perhaps we can find a perfectly reasonable explanation,"_ he suggested optimistically.

"I'm not so sure this time," she confessed.

" _Really?"_ he asked, bemused. _"It must've been a pretty good one for you to concede defeat so fast."_

"I'm running out of explanations," she replied. "Something just…feels very different this time." She couldn't explain it. "I don't know what's going on, but…" she sighed. "I think you just need to come see this."

" _Roger,"_ he replied, hanging up immediately.

"Yasu?"

She was greeted by the dial tone.

* * *

Just over half an hour later, around 8:30, Mai heard a knock at the door. She opened it slowly, still refusing to relinquish her covers. Sure enough, a beaming Yasu stood in the threshold, still dressed in his professional attire and holding the neck of an unopened bottle of wine in one hand.

"You know, I didn't mean you had to come over _right_ now," she said in place of a hello, raising an eyebrow with a coy smile.

"Yeah, but I figured you'd need _this_ now, so," he shook the bottle in emphasis. She laughed, gesturing for him to come in.

"You read my mind," she remarked, closing the door behind him. He set the bottle on the coffee table and shrugged off his suit coat to untuck his dress shirt and slacken his tie.

"I know," he dismissed smugly, promenading towards the kitchen.

"Do you even know where the wine glasses are?" she called after him, loosening her blankets just enough so she could open the screw-top of the wine.

"Nope!" he yelled back over the clinking of glass. He emerged a few seconds later with two mismatched coffee mugs. "Who needs fancy glasses, anyways?" he alleged periphrastically. Mai shook her head at her ridiculous friend.

After pouring themselves each a mug of the blush-colored wine, the two of them found themselves standing in front of Hisashi's tour de force. Yasu scrutinized it for several minutes in silence, hunched over and clutching his mug in one hand, stroking his chin thoughtfully with the other. She watched him, an anxious void now devouring her innards. He stood up straight and took a long sip from his mug before breaking the silence.

"Well I'll be damned," he mused. He looked at Mai, rubbing the back of his neck. "I gotta tell you, I've got nothing."

Mai took a long swig in response.

"What are the chances that this is a coincidence given his past behavior?" Yasu asked, leaning over to look at it again. "Because I'd venture to say about one tenth of a percent."

"I agree, unfortunately…" she huffed, whitewashed. "It's just too…"

"Strange? Unexpected? Idiosyncratic? _Creepy?"_ he underscored the final word, standing up straight once again and stretching the kinks out of his back. She nodded, taking another sip from her mug. She wandered her way back to the sofa and slumped into a cushion with an exaggerated grunt.

"This _would_ only happen to me, wouldn't it?" she laughed half-heartedly. "Whatever _this_ is." He sank down next to her with a wan smile.

"You did have a knack for attracting trouble!" he agreed with dramatic zeal, adjusting his glasses. "It would seem you haven't lost your touch." She kicked him gently.

"Jerk," she christened, setting her cup on the table and folding her arms. He ignored her.

"Do you have any idea of what might be happening?"

"Why are you asking me?" she shrugged. "You're the research guy."

"Well, you were the clairvoyant, not me," he rationalized. "Oh and plus, he's _your_ son."

That was fair, she thought.

"I haven't had a dream in years, Yasu," she reminded him.

"My comment still stands," he asserted. "I have a few ideas about what might be cropping up. I can do some research when I catch a minute," he proposed.

"So, you mean tonight into the wee hours of the morning, then," she smirked.

"Naturally," he grinned, taking a swig from his mug.

"What do you think I should do? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well…" he began. She narrowed her eyes. She knew that redolent tone. "You could always do what I suggested _last_ time. That might be an _enormous_ help…"

She pursed her lips and ruminated on his suggestion.

"Is that _really_ necessary?" she probed. He shrugged.

"Like I said, he's your son. It's up to you," he retorted earnestly, eyes fixed on hers. A few seconds later, his gaze softened. "But as his uncle and your best friend I'm inclined to agree with my expert opinion." Mai snorted.

"I'll think about it," she acknowledged. He nodded and stood.

"Good," he said. He moved to retrieve his jacket. "It's getting late and I have my work cut out for me." He slipped his arms into the sleeves. "Looks like you do, too," he joked, gesturing with his head to the unfinished bottle of wine on the table.

"I appreciate the help," she broached, following him to the front door to open it for him. Before leaving, he turned his upper body towards her and vigorously ruffled her hair. She protested and swatted his hand away, but through a wide smile.

Typical, good-humored Yasu.

"Don't mention it," he winked. "I'll call you when I find something. Let me know if anything else happens," he requested. She nodded. He gave her a small wave and a smile and took his leave. The door was almost nestled back in its latch when a hand shoved itself in the door frame at the last second, soon followed by Yasu's head. " _And_ let me know if you decide to take my advice," he smirked.

" _Goodbye_ Yasu," she waved him away, slamming the door and latching it behind him.

She could hear him laughing to himself outside.

* * *

Mai engaged herself in a staring contest with the desk in her bedroom.

She was losing.

Several times she reached out to shuffle through the neat pile of papers on its top, but always stopped short.

Several ticks of the clock on her wall passed as her trepidation and pride clashed with her longing to understand her son.

And then she realized how stupid that was and that it was not a battle to be had.

She exhaled slowly and gave in.

She began rifling through the assorted documents—data sheets, client profiles, to-do lists, tax forms—uncaring that they fell helter-skelter on the floor. Looking back on it then, she deduced it was probably a bad idea to bury a tiny scrap of paper in a sea of official documents, but she was never the best at thinking things through so one could hardly be surprised.

Just as she was about to give up her search, a ribbon of paper drifted from a stack in her hand and onto the desk. She tossed the papers above her head where she stood, glowering at her discovery while the papers fell like snow at her feet.

Why was her heart racing?

A string of numbers should _not_ be that frightening.


	4. First-Name Basis

_A/N: The long awaited return from our favorite brooding narcissist! Don't fret; there is plenty more Naru to come. I decided to split up his return into a few chapters instead of one long one._

 _This is a bit of a teaser and a way to introduce an important OC who you may or may not end up hating... ;) ;) We'll see, I suppose. I like this character very much. Expect to get to know her better in future chapters! She does indeed seem to have a psychic ability, doesn't she? Stay tuned (though it really isn't that secretive at all. Y'all can probably guess it)._

 ** _nifke2:_** _¡_ _Estoy muy contenta que te guste! Espero que este capítulo sea tan bien escrita como los otros._

 ** _Someone:_** _I love writing Yasu this way. I have a great picture in my head of how he interacts with everyone. And also, I hope you enjoy your Naru screen time and unanswered questions. ;)_

 ** _FauxPrincess:_** _It means a lot to hear that you like it and think it's original! Hopefully you continue to enjoy it._

 _Also, a big thank you to everyone else who has left reviews! I read them all! I will try and address a few in each chapter._

 _Please R &R, and as always, enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter Three:**

 **First-Name Basis**

"Yes," a young, blonde woman affirmed into the phone receiver tucked between her left shoulder and ear. "Yes," she repeated, shifting so the phone rested in her hand. She tapped the fancy black and gold pen between her fingers of her other hand rhythmically against her clipboard, staring at a half-completed form secured to its front. She listened lackadaisically to the unknown female voice on the other end of the line, noting down the proper information while fighting her urge to slip into a jaded haze. "I see," she paused. "And how long has this been occurring?" she inquired in her characteristic secretarial tone. "I see," she said again, documenting the information appropriately.

The blonde swiveled in her desk chair to stare out the window opposite her desk as the woman continued her account. It was a particularly dreary day outside: gray and gloomy with unrelenting rain.

Typical London weather.

Despite the murk outside, the fluorescent lights above her reflected against her pallid complexion, causing her skin to glow and her hair, tucked into a sleek, classic bun pinned at the back of her neck, to appear almost white.

"And how have you been dealing with the phenomena, ma'am?" she inquired with feigned curiosity. Really she could not have cared less; this was not necessary to complete the paperwork.

It just bought her time to Concentrate, to take her own surreptitious notes and procure a view of the potential client. She blindly felt for her purple stationery pad on her desk and pulled it over to her, offering a desultory ' _mmhmm'_ or ' _I see'_ every now and again to at least pretend she was listening.

What she was about to find out would be more valuable than anything she'd previously written down, anyway.

She continued to stare out the window, focusing intently on the relaxing patter of the rain against the glass. She measured her breathing to slow her heartrate. When she felt sufficiently prepared, she centered her attention on the anonymous phone target, inhaled slowly, and let her mind diffuse. She felt her warm energy pulsating outward in steady, formidable waves.

Her target unknowingly acted as a lodestone, magnetizing her drifting consciousness to its compulsory, radiating energy.

Everything and everyone discharged a unique energy with which she could intertwine in order to gather information, even at a distance—though some more clearly than others.

That particular target was challenging to view; its energy was multifarious and very distant.

Unusual.

She closed her eyes to Concentrate more, working harder at interlacing the energies to get an evenhanded conception of her subject.

She could see nothing more than a gray miasma, not unlike the thunderclouds outside. Frustrated, she honed in on the leaking thoughts and feelings she sensed, however fleeting they were. Something was better than nothing.

She began to jot down her (quite literal) stream of consciousness.

 _Anxious anxious anxious mother alone worried child son so strange don't understand help help stupid crayons before before before love personal love melancholy will he help why why pumpkin remember missing remember gone years bizarre bizarre before before paranormal prying curious help—_

" _Hello?"_ A voice from the phone cut into her Concentration, jostling her so badly that she threw the pen across her desk and involuntarily impelled all the air from her lungs. She snapped her eyes open as the blood rushed to her head, clutching her chest and panting softly. After a few moments, she took a deep breath, wet her lips, and cleared her throat.

"Yes, thank you for the information," she replied, momentarily regaining her poise. It was not going to last long, so she needed to wrap it up. "It will all be taken into account when the doctor reviews your case application. We refrain from asking for additional personal information during the preliminary stage of review that might compromise your privacy, so I will provide you with your client identification number," she paused, granting the woman on the line a few moments to prepare to transcribe the number. "Your client identification number is zero-zero-one-seven-three-six. Would you like me to repeat that?"

Of course she did.

The winded blonde obliged, smothering the growing flame of impatience flickering in her chest likely caused by her undue fatigue. After they confirmed the number, she requested an email from the client, assuring her it would remain completely undisclosed until after the case file was either rejected or until after she was invited in for the in-person interview. And finally, like clockwork, she gave her closing spiel.

"I personally will contact you via email to alert you if we plan to pursue your case further. We will provide you with any additional information and instructions at that time. You can expect a response in two to three months."

" _Two to three months—?!"_

"Thank you for calling the office of Oliver Davis at the British Society for Psychic Research," she interrupted more tersely than she intended. "Have a nice day."

She violently pressed down the switch hook on the phone with her finger and set the handset on her desk, purposefully leaving it off its perch to temporarily prevent any incoming calls. She needed to take a break.

She leaned her elbows on the smooth, cool wood of her desk, balancing her head by the temples with her forefingers, kneading them gently to do away with her impending headache.

That was more draining than she anticipated. Her ability admittedly was not as refined as it could be, but she could usually interleave her energy with that of another with little difficulty. The majority of people and objects had simple energies. It ordinarily radiated outward from the core of the target with a smooth, distinct edge that permitted her to weave her energy into theirs undetected, thus sanctioning her a decent view of them. It was part of what made her such a good secretary and case arbiter.

But every once in a while, she'd encounter a target whose energy was incredibly complex, like the one from just moments before. It did not have a discernable periphery to which she could latch, meaning she could neither see their physical body nor decipher the greater part of their thoughts and feelings. A suitable view thus obscured.

This phenomenon occurred infrequently, so when it _did_ come to pass, it was both impossibly strenuous and infuriating. Feeling a little winded was common, but suffering as if she'd just run two marathons back to back uphill was not.

It unfortunately left a sour taste in her mouth about the client, even though she was not acquainted with them personally.

She couldn't help it; her temper piloted her attitude.

She glanced at the small, golden clock ticking on her work space.

10:30.

The day had just begun and she already felt like she needed a nap.

No.

Coffee.

She needed _coffee._

The blonde stood up slowly, fighting the weight of the lethargy in her bones. She brushed out the wrinkles in her pleated maroon skirt and re-tucked the edges of her buttoned white blouse into its waistband before slipping her notepad and clipboard under her arm. She ambled out of her office and down the mutedly lit main hallway to the small staff kitchenette towards the back. To her relief, the pot of coffee she'd brewed earlier that morning was still half full. She set her clipboard on the counter next to the coffee maker and moved to pour herself a mug, but suddenly paused her reach contemplatively. She quietly peeked out the door into the hallway again.

Her boss's door, one threshold away on the opposite wall, was cracked ever so slightly.

She smiled and filled a silver kettle with water at the sink, setting it on the hot plate to brew him some tea. He'd probably complain if she dared enter his office with a hot beverage of her own shorn a cup of his own life-sustaining brew. As it heated, she poured herself a cup of coffee (black, as always) and leaned against the counter. She sipped the steaming liquid prudently, feeling it trickle down her throat and slowly lave away her irritation.

She glanced down at her stationary to review what she had written.

What an embarrassing, jumbled mess.

The only thing she could say for certain was that the potential client was being genuine. She could feel it percolating from her nearly impermeable energy rind.

The willowy woman narrowed her eyes, glaring at the text in annoyance.

As she swallowed the last drop of her coffee, the kettle whistled shrilly. She poured the boiling water into a teacup and dropped in an Earl Grey tea filter to steep, and then refilled her own mug. She carefully tucked her clipboard and pad under her chin to carry a cup in each hand.

She paused outside the door and knocked gently with the toe of her classy black high-heel.

"Come in," a familiar deep voice called from the other side. She nudged the door ajar with her foot and entered. A slender, handsome man with striking blue eyes and tastefully disheveled black hair sat at his well-ordered, mahogany desk. He did not look up from the book laid out in front of him.

Typical.

She moved hastily to set his teacup in front of him to catch the clipboard that was progressively slipping out from below her chin.

"Thank you," he acknowledged, still gazing intently at his reading.

"You're welcome," she returned, stepping around the desk to stand next to him. She set down her mug and placed the hand gently on his shoulder. He sat up straighter at the sudden touch. "I have a new case for you to review," she stated, slipping her clipboard (sans notepad) over the pages of his book. He glanced up at her stoically; she could tell he was annoyed by the intrusion. She smirked. "It's very curious."

"Curious how?" he probed, shifting his eyes downwards to survey the form.

"The woman claims her son is very… _special_ ," she explained. He snorted and folded his arms.

"All mothers think their children are _special,"_ he retorted dismissively.

"I know that," she snapped. "But that isn't what I meant. Since the age of 18 months he has been the focus of many allegedly unexplained phenomena." He turned in his chair towards her, shrugging her hand off in the process.

"Defined _'unexplained,'"_ he requested, eyebrow raised.

"To put it simply, he has consistently said, done, and known things he should not," she clarified. "He has acted out and articulated a few disturbing axioms."

"Perhaps the mother should learn how to discipline and tame her tongue around her child," he suggested, seemingly unconvinced.

"She asserts that she never encouraged this behavior," she replied. His expression remained unchanged. She sighed. "The best way she could describe it is that her son is acting like someone who has long since passed on." He blinked, processing this new revelation.

"And she has cause to be concerned about this? Could it not just be a coincidence?"

"He has apparently depicted deeply personal memories through his artwork. Scenes for which he was most certainly never alive," she countered. He held her gaze for a moment, then glanced over the form once again. "The circumstances of this case appear similar to that of child James Leininger, a noted case of—"

"Reincarnation," he interjected. "I am aware of the details," he assured brusquely. "I personally give little credence to those cases. There is little substantial, indisputable evidence. Children and attention-seeking parents are not the most reliable sources." He pushed away from his desk and stood, towering just a few inches above the woman at his side. "I'm not convinced this is worth BSPR's time and resources. I have folders full of other cases in need of review that may prove much more fruitful." He picked up his teacup and sipped leisurely, inhaling the faint herbal scent. "What is your take?"

"Well," she began. "I didn't get to see much," she admitted warily, watching his face closely. He set his cup down again and turned his entire body towards her, face tinged with the slightest hint of bemusement.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"The client was very… _challenging,_ " she spat, her earlier exasperation yet again bubbling in the pit of her stomach. "The energy was extraordinarily dense and muddled. Kind of like yours. I couldn't get a very good view and I'm exhausted."

"Interesting," he remarked, bringing a hand to rest against his chin pensively. "What did you manage to log? Anything?" She tossed her purple stationary on his desk.

"It's all there," she gestured with her head. "I'm sorry, it isn't a lot and it's very jumbled. I could only sense what little leaked from her energy."

"Don't apologize, Miss Kennedy," he bade. "I respect your ability considerably." She smiled. That was quite the compliment coming from _the_ Oliver Davis himself. She nodded at him appreciatively.

"You know you don't have to be so formal, Noll," she simpered teasingly. "We _are_ the only two in the office today…" She raised an eyebrow suggestively and stepped closer to him, just a fingerbreadth away. He stiffened a bit, but did not move as she gently ran her fingers over the black fabric of his shirt.

"It would be highly unprofessional of me to give you preferential treatment simply based on the nature of our extramural relationship, _Miss Kennedy,"_ he smirked, emphasizing his formality to nark her. "I know I have explained this to you several times now."

She giggled.

"If you say so, _Dr. Davis,_ " she bit back. "I suppose _this_ would be unprofessional, as well," she quipped, leaning up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek before he could react.

"Your supposition was correct," he affirmed, idly rubbing the spot on his cheek. "You ought to brush up on your professionalism, Ona."

"What happened to Ms. Kennedy?" Ona folded her arms, leaning against his front ever so lightly.

"Your proletariat behavior is infectious," he shrugged. She snorted.

"The Dr. Davis I know would not be caught dead seeing a _proletariat_ ," she disputed, poking him in the chest. He shrugged again.

"Get back to work, Ms. Kennedy," he ordered, back-stepping from her with a proud sneer.

"Alright, alright, fine," she conceded with a huff, throwing her hands up in false exasperation as she turned to around to leave. "Look over that paperwork I just left you, when you get a chance."

"I will consider the case, but the likelihood is that I will deny it," he responded wryly. "I don't deal with cases like this. You should know that."

Ona paused just outside the threshold, gripping the frame as she leaned back into his office to get the last word.

"For what it's worth, I think you should consider it," she replied honestly. As much as the client pissed her off, she could not let her personal feelings interfere with her work. Doctor's orders. "I got the inkling that she was being completely sincere," she explained. After a moment, she added, "Plus, I got the impression that she knows you, somehow." She shrugged. "That's how it felt, anyways."

He stared hard at her for an instant. Then, for a rare split second, his features softened.

"Okay," he agreed.

She disappeared from the doorway, leaving Oliver wholly flummoxed.

The client knew him?

How?

Perhaps he would have to give the case more consideration…

Maybe.

He paced back in front of his desk and retrieved Ona's signature purple parchment to review her notes. He raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

" _Pumpkin_ …?" he wondered out loud.

* * *

 _Additional A/N:_

 _Pronunciation_ _of Ona Kennedy's first name: Oh-nuh_

 _Also, if it makes Ona-haters feel better, Mai and Naru are my OTP. Don't give up hope on my babies._


	5. Close Enough

_A/N: I AM SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER WAS SO DELAYED. Truly. I've been meaning to get to it, but things got in the way and it just kept getting pushed back. Thank you for being patient and understanding! I have finals coming up this week and am in the process of searching for a summer job, so I do have other things going on, but hopefully I will be able to get the next few chapters out much quicker! I'm still dedicated to the story!_

 ** _Someone:_** _Hopefully the next few chapters will explain her ability a bit more! It's mentioned in this one, though not in great detail. I'm glad you don't hate Ona! She's gotten quite a bit of hate (though I expected that to be honest). You get to see a bit on how she comes into Noll's life, as well. Though we all know how tight he can be, so he might not give y'all the amount of answers you'd like! ;)_

 ** _PennYnnep:_** _Hopefully you won't end up hating Ona! Though I can why some people will end up doing so. I personally enjoy her as a character and look forward to developing her more._

 ** _Syah:_** _Thank you SO much. That really means a lot to me. That's definitely the end-goal of my writing, and I am thrilled it made you feel so passionately._

 ** _Guest:_** _Entiendo! Estoy de acuerdo contigo. Mai y Naru son mi OTP tambien. Tenga fe en nuestro Naru! ;)_

 _So anyways, here is chapter four of TIOC. Catch-up time with Naru. I hope you enjoy. Not the most action-filled chapter, but full of explanation and backstory. ALSO! Y'all should check out my newest one-shot, Like a Winding Sheet! And all my other works, as well, if you get the chance! Please R &R, and as always enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter Four:**

 **Close Enough**

Oliver sifted through a stack of manila folders sitting on his desk, preparing to review a slew of cases called into the office over a month ago. He tried his best to keep up to date, but the combination of leading his own research and the continual onslaught of phone calls rendered his agenda entirely unpredictable. Some cases lasted longer than others, and that was difficult to account for.

Every month, the office averaged around 75 anonymous case applications (anonymous to eliminate the chance of personal bias). He insisted on reviewing each one personally in order to efficiently separate fallacious cases from the authentic. His ability to do so was completely unrivaled; he knew how to identify virtually all the lies, counterfeit evidence, and meaningless phenomena. He'd spent many years mastering the art of deceit and sleight of hand. He could recognize it immediately.

So, logically, it was just more resourceful for him to do it himself. That way, it would get done right the first time.

Of the 75 cases, perhaps 15 would pass his preliminary review. The other 60 were either dismissed all together or referred to a secondary, lower-level office within BSPR; he did not want to waste more time than necessary on inconsequential cases. The clients of those 15 cases would then schedule an in-person meeting where he and his secretary Ona would together pass one final judgement to see if they were worth their time and resources. Three to four qualified all their prerequisites, and even then, sometimes cases were abandoned midway through due to a poor lapse in his erstwhile judgement.

Not that he was frequently wrong.

Because he wasn't.

He sighed heavily.

To launch his prefacing evaluation (84 cases this time, he counted), Oliver began with the case on top of the stack, marked with the earliest submission date: October 4th. He sat back in his chair with the folder in hand, flipping it open nonchalantly to survey the contents. He skipped the official form Ona had initially completed from the phone interview and went straight for the purple stationary full of her personal notes paper-clipped behind it.

 _Older woman in her mid-70's. Feels like she cannot walk very well. Woman sincerely frightened. Focusing on the art studio of her late husband. Haunting artwork? Surrounded by canvases with various warnings smeared in deep red. Doesn't feel like it is paint…_

Intriguing. He briefly surveyed the form and then set it off to his right to designate a space for the heap of approved cases.

Her very neat and orderly writing in that file indicated the simplicity of the client's energy; she did not need to Concentrate very hard to see them. That, of course, was customary, but as with any standard, there were the occasional exceptions… His eyes involuntarily flickered to the clipboard Ona left behind, now resting on the far right edge of his desk. The script that adorned the attached violet notepaper was uneven and overwrought.

What made _this_ client's energy so difficult to study?

He shook his head to reorient himself to his work. It would have to wait. He'd probably toss it out, anyway.

He examined the contents of the next folder. The form itself immediately drew his attention. The client described a series of violent possessions in their area of residence, one of which resulted in the victim going into cardiac arrest. Oliver was all too acquainted with the matter. He was about to place the folder on the accepted pile when he noticed a small, purple sticky note attached to the bottom corner of the application. On it he read simply ' _Client fraudulent,'_ which Ona had underscored several times for emphasis. He immediately tossed the folder into the trash bin.

A few moments passed and again, he found himself warily eyeing the clipboard. Ona's silvery voice echoed through his mind: _'I got the inkling that she was being completely sincere… She knows you, somehow.'_ How could this woman possibly know him…?

He abruptly swiveled his chair away so his right side was perfectly parallel to his desk, completely obscuring the board from his line of sight. He leaned his forearm against its smooth, dark finish, tapping his fingers impatiently.

This was ridiculous.

Utterly absurd.

 _It could wait._

He closed his eyes and shifted to lean against his elbow, propping his head up by pinching the bridge of his nose in displeasure. After a few measured breaths, he opened his eyes again and, without turning, snatched the next folder from the stack to preoccupy his mind.

He stared at the form blankly, his eyes skimming over the words but not actually making sense of them. Before long, his vision wandered distractedly yet again, now directing his focus indolently on the diploma framed on the wall behind his desk. The words _University of Cambridge_ and its regal crest embellished the top _,_ with a byline from the Department of Parapsychology directly below that read: _This diploma is to certify that Mr. Oliver E. C. Davis has fulfilled all the requirements to the honoris causa degree of Doctor of Parapsychology as agrees in the statutes of the Department of Parapsychology—University of Cambridge._

' _It's so hard to believe that was eleven years ago,'_ his mother would comment. _'It doesn't feel like eleven years has come and gone!'_ He agreed with her, except not in the modus in which she intended. It really _hadn't_ felt like eleven years had passed. It felt decidedly longer. Eleven drawn out, listless years. He always heard it said that time gathers speed the more you age, but he long-ago decided that was complete and utter rubbish. Those eleven years, leaving him now in the onset of his 28th year, had of course been eventful, hectic, demanding, and most of all, _productive_ , but he would have it be noted that that did _not_ constitute a sudden appreciation of life and its complexities that all at once caused the coming years to leave him behind wondering just where the time had gone.

Perhaps it was that way for simple people.

But for someone as brilliant and competent as Oliver, life was anything _but_ simple. It seemed to him the more he aged, the more he lived (or died, for that matter), and the more he understood, the slower life came to pass. He'd considered briefly that this might have been because of some form of psychological duress he experienced as a byproduct of his psychometry and psychokinesis (among other related incidents...), but that was a stupid explanation because there was nothing to be done about it. There was no point in dwelling on something he could not change. It would be a waste of energy and he was far too efficient and dignified for that. It surely was not a reason that his time ticked away slowly.

It just made more sense that _everyone else_ was wrong.

Despite the sluggishness, he still accomplished a great deal and he was proud.

He'd finished his doctorate upon his return from Japan with the body of his deceased brother. It took him just over a year to complete the remainder of his degree and thesis, _The System of the Unexplained Phenomena,_ which his department published almost immediately after his graduation; the research and data he gathered throughout his time at JSPR contributed a great deal to its completion. And naturally, he returned to work at BSPR, only this time as a lead researcher. Rather than working _under_ Madoka, he now worked _alongside_ her as the head of a seven-person research team, one of whom was his trusted assistant Lin.

His graduation and supervisory standing spread his name even farther into his field than it was already, and as a result he was all the more sought after. Oliver had been invited as a guest lecturer to many prestigious universities world-wide, such as Harvard, Yale, and the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign of the United States, Oxford of the United Kingdom, the University of Toronto in Canada, Lomonosov Moscow State University of the Russian Federation, Karolinska Institute of Sweden, Panthéon-Sorbonne University in France, Seoul National University of South Korea, the University of Sydney in Australia, and the University of Hong Kong.

Just to name a few.

Certainly Oliver was unable to accept all of his requests, but even still the majority of his pursuing universities now used a variety of his publications in their curriculum. In the last eleven years he managed to print two sizable books of his own, _The Psychology of Poltergeist Activity_ _and its Yoke to the Paranormal_ and _The Significance of Place Over Location in Legitimate Hauntings,_ as well as writing chapters for at least ten multiparty compositions.

Unfortunately, not all the upshots of his growing notoriety were quite so positive. Mounting recognition of his name and abilities also drew people out of the woodwork in droves, usually all relations to a victim in a case gone cold seeking some form of closure. This, of course, was not a new occurrence. Ever since his discovery at the mere age of 12, people approached him for that very same reason. However, then, they were few and far between; paranormal study was a small field with very specific and limited demographic. Their infrequency gave him a little reprieve, but as an adolescent boy (even one of his own caliber) who had yet to learn how to control his abilities, he was not physically or emotionally prepared for the brutal visions to which his psychometry subjected him. And though he was not an emotional person by birth, he often found himself feeling a touch… _uncomfortable_ after delivering bad news to a client. More often than not, they grew enraged with him rather than with the perpetrator of the crime or even the situation itself. He suspected it was because they needed to channel their anger and sadness into something tangible to avoid descending into lunacy, and he was an easy target because he was standing there in front of them, alive. He quickly learned how to detach himself from those situations and their accompanying high-strung emotions. It had proven to be a useful skill in more than one area of his life.

He did not like the experience then, so there was no reason for Oliver to like it now, especially since the number of people increased a hundredfold. Regardless, he knew the barrage would never stop as long as he breathed, so he decided if people were going to capitalize off his talents, he would return the favor and work them to his advantage. Because of the overwhelming amount of potential business his clients brought, he easily obtained authorization to open his own branch office of BSPR with his team. That way, he could limit his number of clients professionally (instead of out of spite), as well as gather invaluable data through the introspective paranormal cases brought to his attention and his post-cognition. Despite their revolting nature, the psychometric visions offered intriguing insights to which his colleagues in his discipline would otherwise not have access.

Since his office's establishment, Oliver worked meticulously like the debonair ace he was to retain old sponsors and acquire new ones to help fund his research. He'd always found the process tedious and irksome, but it was necessary. He highly disliked speaking to strangers and it was not something at which he was particularly skilled, but throughout his life he attended enough extravagant professional affairs and observed ample discourses between other investees and potential patrons to decrypt the formula behind a successful negotiation. He noted what each patron or patroness did and did not like, memorized the topics in which they took interest or found distasteful, learned their weak spot to flattery, and, for good measure, performed some tawdry parlor tricks they ate up every time without fail.

He found that underhanded schmoozing was a fitting substitute for genuine interest in those paltry exchanges. No one appeared capable of distinguishing between the two.

Providentially, it was at such a disagreeable networking event that he first met Ona. She came from a wealthy family of financiers that also happened to be long-standing friends of Luella and Martin. They were in London on business during a fundraising event, and Oliver's father saw fit to invite them to attend—not only as friends, but also as potential patrons. Ona's parents, especially her father (like any ambitious business man), frequently hunted for dealings in which they could invest their money to both kick-start success for others but also propagate their own funds.

Her father, Lawrence Kennedy, was a successful business operations manager for a large luxury liquor company based in Dublin. He and Martin met each other during their university years and fast became good friends. Their friendship continued even after Lawrence immigrated to Ireland to pursue his business ventures; they did not see each other often, but somehow the two men appeared undeterred. Her mother, Gwenaëlle LaRue Kennedy, was an attractive French woman that was CEO of her very celebrated event-planning transnational enterprise originally based in Nantes, France; the center of operations moved to Dublin when she married Lawrence. The area office in Nantes, however, remained opened, and she expanded branches into several other European nations such as Spain and Germany. Her company became one of the top names in her industry.

They were pleasant people, but he knew they were very well-off and he felt no remorse in capitalizing on their kindness. His usual methods were (unsurprisingly) successful, and the many glasses of wine the Kennedys consumed only helped his cause.

It went very well.

Ever since, the Kennedys had been one of his biggest patrons.

However, his charismatic show reaped one unintended result: Ona's attention. At that particular time, Oliver was 24, leaving Ona at a puerile 19. They were introduced briefly, but his focus soon fell more on Lawrence and Gwen.

Nevertheless, he did note her frequent nervous glances at him when she thought he was not paying attention. He was not ignorant of his own good looks; it was hardly the first time he caught a woman staring. He was incredibly disinterested and they barely spoke at all, so he ignored it without difficulty. Though, looking back on it now, Oliver wondered if the reason for her staring was due more in part to his good looks or her inability to connect to his energy. He had known nothing of her ability at the time.

Perhaps he should ask her sometime.

Regardless, he was aware she was interested in him in some fashion, but she was much too young and immature for him.

Not that he particularly wanted a relationship romantic in nature anyways. Those feelings had eluded him for quite some time.

The next time he saw Ona was two years later, again at one of those blasted events. He was working to renew the Kennedys' investment for another year, though he knew before the event began that he would have no problem. The negotiation was more of a formality at that point. She'd likely changed and matured in those two years, but he really had no way of knowing and he really did not care. He was perfectly content simulating acquaintanceship, but judging by the hushed conversation Ona and his mother had that evening and the curious glances from both women in his direction, Oliver suspected the universe had other plans for him.

She eventually cornered him and engaged him in a conversation, so he politely (albeit begrudgingly) humored her. To his surprise, however, she divulged to him that not only was she a fan of his work, but that she, too, had a psychic gift: remote viewing. He'd only heard of it in books, as it was widely dismissed in the 90's as pseudoscience after many failed attempts by world governments to harness its power for espionage purposes. The prospect intrigued him. He also learned she was to graduate from university in Ireland and attend Cambridge to begin the parapsychology doctoral program, choosing the extended program track so she could study straight to her PhD without the hassle of obtaining her Master's.

She practically begged him that evening to work for him in his office as an intern as she studied, crooning that he was one of the most brilliant men she'd ever had the pleasure to meet and that it would be an honor… But he saw through the flattery and doe eyes. She was unknowingly turning his own Machiavellian tactics back on him. She would _not_ out-manipulate him. That would have been unacceptable.

He civilly declined her request because he had no need for an extra team member, but Ona insisted he reconsider, perhaps over dinner (Luella, to his discontent, agreed over-enthusiastically that this would be a fantastic idea). He politely declined that request, as well.

So of course a week later he found himself stuck with Ona at a snobbish restaurant in downtown London at the behest of his mother.

After a great deal of banter and well-constructed arguments, as well as a detailed account on the current extent of her capabilities, he relented and agreed to let her work for him as an intern doing his secretarial work.

He was pleasantly surprised by the quality and efficiency of her work.

She proved to be an asset both in his studies and his work. He respected that.

More's the pity, just because she delivered on the professional front did not mean her infatuation with him vanished; that much was clear. He might not have been the best at reading others, but he was not so ignorant that he was oblivious to her flirtation. He remained resistant for quite some time, both because he believed it would be considered unprofessional and because he really had no desire to deal with her in a more-than-professional, more-than-friendly manner. His history in romance was less than spectacular…

But his mother harassed him for weeks about his new secretary to the point where he gave in just to shut her up. He was growing impatient. He figured if he agreed to go out with her once and it proved to be a farce, his mother would get off his case for good.

What he discovered was quite the contrary: he did not hate the time they spent together. She did have interesting things to say, especially when it came to the paranormal. She was clearly smart and her personality was significantly less grating than it could have been. He could find no reason to refuse a second… _appointment,_ so he saw her again.

And again.

And again.

Her company did not aggravate him and she was thoughtful and levelheaded (albeit sometimes considerably short-tempered) _._ Over the course of a year, they got to know one another on more than a superficial level (which was more than he could say for most people), though he found himself highly ill at ease talking about himself, so he let her do most of the talking. She seemed content with that.

During the second (and current) year of her internship, somewhere along the line, Ona suggested they become romantically involved. He initially rejected the idea under the guise of "feeling improper because of their status as colleagues"—but honestly it was because he was nervous and unsure that what he felt towards the girl could grow into something quixotic. He had only experienced such affection once, and it landed him in a very awkward and doleful place. He had not handled it well, and whatever _it_ was was not at all akin to his feelings towards Ona.

After thorough reflection, he could truly not think of any good reason to cast her off anymore. He did care about her—in what way, he was unsure, but nonetheless, he did not find her insufferable—and he was reasonably comfortable around her. He could talk to her without feeling like snapping his own neck. Plus, she genuinely cared about him, which he found oddly refreshing. He ultimately agreed to her proposition to see where it would lead.

Perhaps it was the closest he would get to _romance_.

Now, to date, they had been together for approximately a year.

He finally tore his eyes away from the diploma on his wall, shaking his head a bit to clear his mind. He turned his chair back towards the clipboard and narrowed his eyes.

Perhaps he should just look it over so he could finally pitch it and get it off his mind. It shouldn't preoccupy him so much in the first place.

Feeling a bit defeated, he pulled it over to him and read the form and nonsensical notes judiciously. The details on the form were consistent…

But that did not change the fact that it detailed something in which he very strongly did not believe. In his career he'd dealt with two other alleged cases of reincarnation, both of which turned out to be bogus. He could find no truly convincing evidence in any other outside sources that changed his mind.

But Ona had been so insistent…

And he was not one to dismiss the intuition of his workers.

Briefly, his mind flickered back to his former, brown-haired assistant from his days in Japan. He tried his damnedest not to linger upon her memory, but he could not help but wonder what _her_ intuition might tell him. He could recall many times when Mai had goaded him into something originally unplanned because of her dreams and hunches, and she never let up until he listened to her. Very infrequently was she wrong.

Though Ona and Mai were very different people in many ways, they both shared one key characteristic: obstinacy.

Ona had already made it very clear her stance on the case, and try as he did to find a reason to throw it out, Mai's _petulant_ voice echoed in the back of his mind telling him to _'quit being a narcissist'_ and _'listen to someone else for a change.'_

He groaned and irately snatched a pen from his desk top.

* * *

It was nearing the end of the day and Ona was finishing up some last-minute housekeeping in their digital records. Her long, manicured red fingernails pleasantly clicked across the keys.

She was unsure why, but the sound made her feel very important.

Productive.

She shrugged to herself as a bright flash of lightning outside her window reminded her to save her work to the hard drive before continuing. Just as the subsequent thunderclap rumbled the air, Oliver stomped—no, _marched,_ Oliver never _stomped_ —into the room, taking her by surprise.

"Noll?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow and following him with her eyes. He stopped in front of her desk, holding a thick pile of manila case folders. His expression was stoic, but she detected just a hint of exasperation in his deep indigo eyes. It amused her greatly. Unblinking, they held each other's gaze for several moments before he dropped the files on her desk. Without saying a word, he hastily turned on his heels to take his leave. She suppressed a snort and leaned over her desk to reach the pile he expected her to take care of and file away.

She fingered the folder on the top of the mound and knit her eyebrows together in confusion. It was much heavier than normal. She flipped it open, only to be greeted by the clipboard holding the form and stationary she'd left in his office previously that day.

She smirked to herself.

On the very bottom of the form he'd scribed his signature, signing off on the bizarre case she'd encouraged him to consider, despite his reservations.

Perhaps most curious of all, directly beside his signature laid one of her familiar purple sticky notes covered with his shambolic handwriting. In all capital letters and with harsh, inky underscoring, it read " _ **PRIORITY—FAST TRACK IMMEDIATELY."**_

* * *

 _Additional A/N: So there is very little information available on remote viewing, so that has given me some artistic liberty in how it is used and expressed. The way Ona uses it and feels during/after is of my own imagination. It's how I imagine it would work, considering it were real._


	6. Classical Social Evolution Theory

_A/N: Behold, chapter 5! Much faster than the last chapter. I thought y'all deserved another chapter after the last delay. Unfortunately, I probably will not be able to get another chapter up until next week because finals week begins tomorrow and I have studying and crap that needs to get done. I can't wait for summer to start!_

 _This is a great deal of exposition about Naru and Ona. It's an elaboration on one of the memories Naru mentioned superficially last chapter. Clearly details don't always matter that much to him... So the readers get a full-fledged flashback. I hope this answers a lot of your questions about Ona and how she came into Naru's life! It also really fleshes out a great deal of Ona's past and her as a character. Personality-wise and all that jazz. She is fun to write._

 ** _Emina105:_** _So glad you are enjoying the story! Don't worry, I definitely won't let anything get in the way of character development. I hope you enjoy this chapter because that's basically what it is! Also, I am a Miss! ;)_

 ** _Oxybry:_** _Thank you again for the compliments! Fear not, I have a lot in mind for the lot of them._

 ** _Animedude16:_** _I definitely understand if you don't like Ona. Hopefully it's more of a I-hate-them-as-a-person-but-respect-them-as-a-character type of hate, if you do end up disliking her. Naru and Mai's reunion will be coming up quite shortly!_

 _As always, enjoy! Please R &R and perhaps check out my other Ghost Hunt stories, if you get the chance!_

* * *

 **Chapter Five:**

 **Classical Social Evolution Theory**

 _ **Four Years Ago**_

 _A quick glance around the elegant banquet hall tipped Ona off to the high-class sophistication of the other honorable guests that evening. Though she herself would likewise be considered classy and wealthy because of the lineage from which she descended, she still felt a bit small and insignificant in a sea of well-to-do men vested in expensive tuxedos and opulent, affluent women draped in an array of colors that coalesced amongst one another like a kaleidoscope. Her simple burgundy, floor-length gown complemented her glossy blonde hair, which fell across her bare shoulders in loose curls, bequeathing her with a stunning regality. But for some reason, her nerves were not nearly as well put-together as her appearance was. Perhaps it was because of her young age._

 _That seemed highly unlikely, though._

 _At 19, she speculated that she was the youngest in the room by at least 3 years, if not more. However, this was not her first professional function. She'd attended business functions with her parents all over Europe since the age of eight. What's more, events like this were normally very exciting for her; she loved the excuse to dress up and impress the other guests. Maybe it was vain, but she rather enjoyed being a center of attention. She normally felt very confident at such gatherings, so age was certainly not the origin of her unease._

 _She was not antisocial. She could talk to others—strangers or acquaintances—without problem._

 _Her business etiquette was as it should be: impeccable._

 _She did not feel sick._

 _So why did she feel so on edge?_

 _Perchance it was the unspeakably handsome, dark-haired man with whom her father had engaged in what she guessed was a very posh conversation; she could tell by his boisterous laugh and how he punctuated each sentence with a poignant sip of the sparkling white wine in his right hand._

 _She carefully observed the man's angular face, noting the fetching curvature of his jaw and striking, inscrutable blue eyes. She paid no attention to what he was saying, but marveled at his smooth, deep, and alluring voice. He looked unquestionably dashing in his pressed black suit, sporting a royal blue tie under his jacket and atop a blanched white dress shirt. The paradoxical black hair framing his face_ _—_ _somehow gracefully disheveled—_ _that turned up just slightly in the front in conjunction with his black attire contrasted boldly against his pale skin, yet somehow it did not wash him out. It only exemplified his good looks._

 _What was even more remarkable was that even though he was less than a meter away from her, she could not for the life of her interweave her energy with his._

 _She radiated her consciousness outwards, curious to get an intimate look at the charming stranger. Invasive? Maybe. Worth it? Yes._

 _But to her displeasure, his energy was muddled, almost too thick to penetrate. She had never encountered an energy so dense; she could not even sense any leaking thoughts or emotions. It was like he was a void. The only information she could gather—and it was conjecture at best—was that he was very complex and powerful with a somnolent history._

 _How frustrating._

 _Though her efforts thus far had been fruitless and it was quickly sapping her verve, she continued anyways. She would not be bested by someone an arm's length away. She poked all around his ruddiness with her conscious, but she just couldn't find an edge._

 _All of a sudden, the man's indigo eyes caught her own in a fleeting gaze. She immediately looked away, her face flushing the color of her dress._

 _Maybe he didn't notice._

' _Oh, how rude of me! Ona,' her father's deep voice cut into her embarrassment, abruptly calling her attention away from the floor. She stared at him with wider eyes than she intended. 'This is Martin's son, Oliver Davis._ The _Dr. Oliver Davis!' She observed a smirk play across Oliver's lips as he held out a hand towards her. She stared at it dumbly. She knew who he was. Or rather, she knew she would be meeting the renowned Dr. Oliver Davis that evening, but she had no idea he was so young and attractive. He never published any of his works with a picture of the author, and with the title of doctor and his very marked intelligence, she just always imagined him as a middle-aged man with gray stubble, salt and pepper hair, and crooked glasses._

 _She felt a little blindsided._

 _Her father cleared his throat to snap her out of her stupor._

 _Crap._

 _How long had she been staring at his hand?_

 _She quickly reached out and clumsily shook his hand, silently berating herself for her sweaty palms. She tried to make eye contact but his stare made her feel like internally combusting, so she had to settle for staring at the wall behind him. She felt like an idiot._

' _G-good evening, Dr. Davis,' she stammered, still shaking his hand. 'Ona Kennedy.' That was her name, right? 'It's, uh… It's a pleasure,' she finished lamely, noticing that she was now the only one shaking so she immediately dropped his hand. He raised an eyebrow at her._

' _The pleasure is mine, Ms. Kennedy,' he replied suavely, courteously inclining his head towards her. Her head spun._

 _She opened her mouth to say something—what, she did not know—but he had already diverted his attention back to her father._

 _He didn't say a word to her the rest of the night._

 _What a pleasure indeed, she thought bitterly. He may have sounded sincere, but he clearly had other motives in mind that did not involve the exchange of pleasantries with her._

 _He was playing a game that he only knew the rules to, and she apparently just lost._

* * *

 _ **Two Years Later**_

 _It was just two days before Christmas and two days since Ona finished her seventh semester at the University College of Cork. Upon finishing her autumn examinations on the 21_ _st_ _, she and her parents immediately boarded a plane for a holiday in London over her Christmas recess. Just as her last trip to London, her visit began with an invitation from Martin Davis to a fancy fundraising function. Doing business (even at an extravagant party) did not really constitute as 'holiday' activity, but Ona did not mind because that meant she would again get to see dear old Oliver Davis. She had not seen nor heard from him since her last trip._

 _No, she had not spent the last two years pining over the handsome raconteur, but she was certainly not opposed to getting a look at him again. He truly may have been the most handsome man on which she'd ever laid her eyes._

 _Besides, she had a proposition for him, and this time, she would not forget how to control her motor skills. Probably._

 _That evening, she again donned an outfit the color of success. She wore gold high-heels and a long, ruby-red, form-fitting gown that exposed one freckle-dusted shoulder and sheathed her other arm in a full, thin sleeve. Her hair was gathered at the base of her neck in a stately, ornate bun. She looked stunning, if she did say so herself. Perhaps Oliver would be unable to resist her this time._

 _For the first hour of the event, Martin, her father, and her mother monopolized Oliver's attention, so to pass the time she attempted to connect her energy to his. She'd honed her skills a great deal in the last two years and believed she could Concentrate hard enough to finally succeed._

 _With a firm mental push her consciousness pulsed outward, converging in on Oliver's energy._

 _But again, she found nothing to plunge into. No edge. No holes. Just a dense murk._

 _She huffed indignantly and pushed harder._

 _She managed to pick up on one solitary leaking emotion, which she considered a victory. It was very minor, but a victory nonetheless. Though, she could not exactly decipher the feeling. It felt like an odd tangle of sensations, the primary of which was a mild despondency._

 _As she was about to separate herself from him, she felt the leaking emotion change abruptly. It was very clearly irritation. She shook her head to ground herself, only to find Oliver glaring at her. She widened her eyes and turned away from him, humiliated. Had he been able to sense her intrusion? She reached up to touch her face. It was hot, meaning it was probably as red and the lip stain she wore._

 _Great._

' _Ona?' a soft voice chirped from behind her. She whipped her neck around to the source of the sound. She sighed in relief when she realized the voice had come from Luella. She turned to face the petite woman._

' _Oh, good evening, Mrs. Davis,' she greeted with a small smile._

' _Oh, please, call me Luella, dear,' she chuckled and waved her hand dismissively. 'How are you this evening? You look lovely.'_

' _Thank you Mrs—er, Luella,' she corrected herself. 'You look wonderful yourself. I'm doing…' she paused briefly, sneaking a glance in Oliver's direction. 'I'm doing well,' she finished with a sigh. 'Yourself?'_

 _A smile grew across the woman's lips. 'I'm fine, thank you.' She surveyed Ona's face for a moment. 'Noll looks quite handsome tonight, doesn't he,' she mused. It was not a question. Ona's face flamed even brighter._

' _I, er… I…' she sputtered, unsure of what to say. The woman was not wrong. Luella laughed._

' _I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you, love,' Luella assured her, reaching out and giving one of her shoulders a pat. 'I just saw you staring at him earlier. He's available, you know…' She trailed off mischievously, a coy smile turning the corner of her lips._

' _Oh!' Ona exclaimed. 'Oh, no, I wasn't…' she terminated her thought midway through when Luella shot her a shrewd look. 'I don't think he likes me very much.'_

' _Oh nonsense! Noll just is not particularly loquacious.'_

 _Ona shrugged. 'Still, I don't—'_

' _Give him a shot, yeah?' she urged. After a moment, she added, 'Please? I've been trying for ages to get Noll out with a decent girl like you.' She directed a suspicious glance at her son. Ona tilted her head thoughtfully, mulling over Luella's words._

 _What was there to lose, really? She was only going to be in London for a fortnight, so if her advances crumpled under the weight of a rejection she would never actually have to see him again. The thought was mildly unsettling, but…_

* * *

' _Dr. Davis?' Ona called from behind him. He stood with his back to her, currently running hot water over a tea bag into a teacup at the beverage table._

 _She had finally caught him during a lull in his conversations._

 _Also, if she did not know better, he seemed to be making it a point to avoid her… But then again, she could just be over thinking things._

 _He hesitated before turning around. He had a plastered smile on his face. She would have rolled her eyes if she did not want to make a good impression._

' _Can I help you?' he asked, folding his arms gracefully. She swallowed harshly as her heart stuttered in her chest._

' _Y-yes, I'm not sure if you remember me—' He held up a hand to silence her._

' _Miss Ona Kennedy. I remember you,' he confirmed. She blinked, forgetting where she wanted the conversation to go next. He looked over her figure, but not in the licentious way to which she was accustomed. He seemed to be determining whether or not she had anything of value to offer him—unrelated to her looks. She did not know if she should be disappointed or flattered._

' _Y-yes, that's right! I'm surprised you remember me,' she replied with a small smile._

' _I don't forget many things,' he responded. 'We met two years ago.' He shifted his weight from one foot to another impetuously. 'Is there something I can do for you?' His blue eyes pierced deep into hers. She stood up straight to regain her poise, now realizing that with her heels she was just a mere inch shorter than him. He was not so intimidating up close._

 _She smirked._

' _Actually, there is,' she affirmed, placing a hand on her hip. He rose an eyebrow at her questioningly. 'I'd like to tell you that I am a huge admirer of your work.' No reaction. He'd probably heard that a million times already. 'I especially liked what you had to say about the significance of place in your second book. The case you detailed about the Yoshimi House in Japan was enthralling. The way you described the Three Rokubu's obsession with the land on the estate and how it fueled a great fraction of the haunting makes complete sense.'_

 _He took a moment to process what she said. 'Thank you,' he acknowledged finally._

 _That's it? Seriously? He could at least pretend to be a little more grateful for the praise. Talking to him was almost as hard as penetrating his energy, she thought sardonically. Perhaps that was an over exaggeration, but she still stood by her point._

 _They stood in awkward silence for several moments. Evidently he was not going to be the first to speak. She sighed._

' _You have PKST, right?' she questioned. He raised an eyebrow at her warily._

' _Correct,' he deadpanned. This time she could not suppress her eye roll._

' _That's another reason why I admire your work, Mr. Davis,' she clarified. 'I also have a gift.' He stared at her hard without a trace of discernible emotion in his eyes. He took a step forward, scrutinizing her again._

' _Is that so?' he quizzed dubiously. She nodded, feeling her face flush again._

' _Remote viewing,' she expounded, unwittingly tugging on her dress sleeve anxiously._

' _Remote viewing,' he repeated, capturing his chin between his thumb and forefinger pensively._

' _Correct,' she retorted, intending to mock him. He did not seem to notice, and if he did, he ignored her completely. 'Are you familiar with the concept?' He furrowed his brow slightly, considering the question._

' _Only vaguely,' he admitted after a pause, his voice just barely laced with injured pride. 'There is very little research available on the ability itself. The majority of literature I have read on the subject is from the 1990's, when remote viewing was popularized from the derestriction of classified documents related to the United States' government's 1975 Stargate project.'_

' _The Stargate project is an embarrassment,' she spat. 'No one ever truly took the skill seriously. They all just thought of it as glorified clairvoyance.'_

' _Is that not what it is?' Oliver questioned._

' _No!' she barked angrily. 'ESP and remote viewing have very distinct differences!'_

' _If I recall,' he mused, 'Remote viewing is also synonymous with clairvoyance. The Stargate project used remote viewing as a method to make the study of ESP more 'scientific'.'_

' _Right idiots, they were! All of them. Their understanding of remote viewing was minimal and quite frankly, the lot of them were sorry excuses for scientists. That's why so much of their research was fabricated,' she huffed, folding her arms. 'They didn't even know what they were looking for. I mean, for Christ's sake, they wouldn't even tell the so-called psychics if they were wrong or not so they didn't_ hurt their feelings!'

' _Well—'_

'And, _most importantly,' she cut in, causing him to shut his mouth with an audible click. He gritted his teeth. 'They treated remote viewing like it was some…some_ step _in the ESP process! It exists in its own right.'_

' _Would you care to elaborate, Miss Kennedy?' Oliver chided with an emerging smirk. What was he on about? She hesitated and looked around the room,_ everywhere _but at his eyes, as she tried to think of a way to explain herself. All it once it clicked; she snapped her eyes back to his confidently, feeling very pleased with herself._

' _Why of course, Dr. Davis,' she replied grandiosely. 'I am of the opinion that many researchers, such as those in the Stargate project, view the honing of ESP and clairvoyance as a unilateral growth. That is to say, they considered remote viewing the_ process _of becoming a master of clairvoyance, like there was a start and a destination. Think about it this way,' Ona suggested. 'Unilateral growth of ESP is to Stargate as classical social evolution theory was to 19_ _th_ _century anthropologists. They viewed all non-Western societies as stages on their way to becoming fully 'socially developed'_ _—or Western_ _—_ _instead of looking at each individual society as their own entity with its own path to social development. Both Western and non-Western societies were both just that: societies. And each were just as important in the concept of societal evolution as a whole, but they need to be studied individually to be understood. In the same way, clairvoyance and remote viewing are both psychic abilities that produce somewhat related results, but they must be studied separately. Otherwise, you're comparing apples to apples and wondering why they aren't oranges.'_

 _She sucked in a deep breath. She'd forgotten to respire through her entire tirade. A coy grin barely tugged at Oliver's lips. It was the first smile that she'd seen get even remotely close to his eyes._

 _(Maybe it was a good thing he didn't genuinely smile often. If he did, there would be nothing left of her by the end of the evening.)_

' _A very astute observation, Miss Kennedy,' he remarked. She beamed vivaciously. 'You seem to know a great deal on the subject. You are very well-read.'_

 _(Maybe it was a good thing he wasn't always friendly, too.)_

' _Thank you, sir. I'm currently completing my capstone project on remote viewing for my graduation from Cork this spring. I've done my fair share of research. It helps that I have first-hand experience in the matter.'_

' _I imagine it would,' he agreed. 'If you do not mind me asking, what do you think is the primary difference between clairvoyance and remote viewing, then?'_

' _With remote viewing I don't actually have an out-of-body experience. I don't physically leave my body; I just concentrate my energy on who or what I want to see, and my energy pulsates outwards towards my target and intertwines with their energy and shows me what I need.'_

' _Intertwining energy?' he reiterated curiously, capturing his chin in thought again. Ona nodded._

' _Everyone has a distinct energy, and each energy has a periphery to which my energy can attach itself. Like a supernatural puzzle. By intertwining with their energies I can physically see my target in my mind, where they are, what they are doing, thinking or feeling…' she paused. 'On a good day, anyways. Some people are easier to see than others…' she trailed off, looking him up and down cautiously. Realization flashed across his features._

' _I felt you earlier this evening, didn't I?' he asked with finality in his tone. He already knew the answer. 'When you were staring at me.' Ona looked away and rubbed the back of her neck, a blush creeping across her cheeks. She should have worn more foundation. 'It was a very warm feeling. More or less…itchy,' he grimaced at his shoddy word choice. 'It felt like something dense was trying to filter into me through my…aura? My chi?' he tried. He continued before she could answer. 'Almost like I had a translucent second skin that surrounded me.' He removed his hand from his chin and ran his long fingers through his hair before dropping his arm limply at his side._

' _That's one way to think about it,' she affirmed. 'That 'second skin' is your energy. I assume the itchy warmth you felt was_ my _energy. It always feels warm to me. I cannot confirm that, though. No one has ever told me they could feel it, before.'_

' _Really?'_

' _Really,' she returned. 'My ability is not as strong as it could be, but I don't usually have any remarkable issues Concentrating on people… Most have very simple energies and it does not take a lot to view them.'_

' _Was it difficult to see me, then?'_

' _It was,' she admitted. 'Your energy is very thick. Complex. I couldn't interlace with it. I couldn't see anything at all last time I saw you, and this time I could only make sense of a few leaking feelings…' He raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her to continue. She heaved a sigh, guilt gnawing at her stomach. 'Sorry about that, by the way… I was not trying to irritate you. That's the only thing I felt, I swear. Irritation,' she promised, gesturing towards him with her hands in reassurance. 'I didn't mean to be invasive.' Not a complete lie. 'It's just a habit.'_

' _I see. I acknowledge your apology,' he nodded towards her. 'But I implore you to not try that again without my permission. For your sake and mine.' He made no move to expound upon his admonition, so she did not press further._

' _I won't,' she vowed._

' _I find your ability intriguing, Miss Kennedy. I wish you the best of luck in your studies,' he said. He straightened his posture and brushed his hands across the front panels of his suit to flatten any wrinkles, and then elegantly stepped passed her towards their parents as he straightened his sapphire tie._

 _She blinked, staring straight ahead at the beverage table behind where Oliver had just stood. She realized she hadn't even presented him with her proposition, the reason she endeavored to speak with him in the first place. Her insides tingled with panic as her heart rate soared._

 _She could not miss this chance._

 _She rushed forward towards the table and grabbed Oliver's forgotten cup of tea (which she was sure was no longer warm, but oh well), spinning to take off after him as fast as her heels would allow. In her haste, tea sloshed over the edges of the cup and onto the pale skin of her hand. She winced._

 _Nope, it was still hot._

' _Dr. Davis, wait!' she called after him, feeling a bit stupid as a group of men to her right gawked at her. He did not stop nor turn around._

' _Yes?' he answered back, not breaking his stride. She caught up to him far enough that he was only a few paces ahead of her._

' _I have a question to ask you,' she replied out of breath, gasping a bit. He stopped walking finally, but still did not turn around. She took that as a cue to continue. 'I graduate from Cork in the spring and have accepted a spot in the cohort in the parapsychology program at Cambridge.' He craned his neck to look back at her, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets._

' _That wasn't a question,' he retorted. She rolled her eyes angrily._

'Let me finish, you insufferable tosser!' _she fumed before she could stop herself. Oh well. Too late now, she reasoned. He didn't seem bothered by her insult anyway. She imagined he'd been called much worse. 'I will be attending Cambridge in the coming autumn, and I would be honored if you would have me as an intern at your office here in London.' Oliver widened his eyes momentarily, clearly taken aback. He regained his composure immediately and turned to face her fully. 'You're one of the most brilliant men I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,' she revealed. She smirked to herself. She would butter him up so he could not resist her. He thought so highly of himself, so why not take advantage of that? 'I feel like I could learn so much from you.'_

' _I don't doubt that,' Oliver agreed. He deliberated her proposition with his gaze fixed directly on hers. She could not bring herself to look away from their cerulean depths. Finally, he spoke: 'But I am going to have to politely decline your proposition. I have no need for an additional worker. Again, that was not a question.'_

 _What an arse._

 _What a handsome, charismatic arse._

 _Ona's heart sunk. How did her blatant adulation fail? She bit her lip, deliberating on if she should fight him or not. Her eyes drifted off to behind his left shoulder. She could see Luella, Martin, and her parents approaching. She smiled._

 _If flattery was not his weak spot, then she knew what would be._

 _His mother._

 _When Luella was in ear shot, she said much louder than she needed to: 'I implore you to reconsider my query, Dr. Davis. Perhaps over dinner?' She punctuated her request with a haughty flare. She could hear Luella behind him just raving about the idea of them meeting for dinner, though Ona was much too preoccupied with her impending victory to listen._

 _Oliver did not look at all pleased._

' _Again, I will respectfully have to refuse your offer, Miss Kennedy,' he returned with the falsest sincerity she had ever heard._

' _Yeah?' she grilled, striding toward him and presenting him the cup of tea. He stared at the steaming liquid furiously before snatching it from her hands. 'We'll see.' She smirked._


	7. Storm Clouds

_A/N: Finally, an update! It took a lot longer than I anticipated; I apologize! I am all graduated from college now! Hooray! That being said, I also just moved to an entirely different city and have been on the hunt for a job, so my time has been a bit spread thin. I'm still looking for a job, but hopefully now that my life has settled down quite a bit and I don't have homework (yet-I have two summer classes starting in July) I can devote more time to writing! I miss it. Fear not, I am still devoted._

 _I'm not going to address any comments from the last chapter specifically. Instead, I am going to write a general statement. I want to thank all those who wrote very constructive and/or kind commentary! As always, it is greatly appreciated and I am glad the majority of my readers are enjoying my work! I also received a great deal of 'hate' for Ona, which I would like to discuss very briefly. I am not surprised on account of the fact that she is 1.) currently in a relationship with Naru, and 2.) An OC in a beloved universe. I respect that many of you do not care for her. That's actually part of her character 'charm'. She just is not the most friendly or selfless person and often comes across as arrogant and pushy. It's not on accident; I'm fully aware of her behavior. Trust me! :) I had three different people tell me she was "exactly like" three different characters, so I think that lends itself as evidence that she is not "exactly like" anyone in particular. She is simply Ona, a woman who is not a replacement for anyone and may or may not share characteristics in some fashion with other known characters (so functions the real world, as well). I had a lot of fun writing the last chapter and thought it was very necessary to establish more of her as a person and her ability. It was the best way to explain how it worked. Showing, not telling. Alas, I know I cannot please everyone with everything I write all the time, but its importance to me as the author definitely makes it pertinent to where I know the story is going. I definitely won't beg you to love her-or even like her!- and I'm not offended, I promise! Keep on keepin' on! I do hope, however, that the dislike for Ona as a person can be separated from the overall quality and enjoyment of my work. :)_

 _I hope you understand!_

 _Sorry to ramble! Anyways, I hope after the short wait you all enjoy the chapter, as always! We find ourselves back with Mai, Yasu, and Hisashi in this chapter. I know y'all have missed them! So have I; they're super fun to narrate. Sorry ahead of time for any typos! I'm very tired._

 _Enjoy! Please R &R (annnnnd maybe check out some of my one-shots ;) )!_

 _-ThoseShadows_

* * *

 **Chapter Six:**

 **Storm Clouds**

 _Client #001736:_

 _On behalf of Dr. Oliver E.C. Davis and the British Society for Psychic Research, I am pleased to inform you that the office has elected to pursue your currently outstanding case. After great deliberation and examination, Dr. Davis would like to schedule a meeting to sit down with you here at the office to further discuss the details of your circumstances._

 _During this secondary consultation, Dr. Davis will ask you a series of questions requesting you to describe the nature of the phenomena. Prepare to be as thorough as possible. It is very important to give the fullest account you can so that the office can make a well-informed decision on whether or not BSPR will be able to help you, and if so, in what manner. Prepare yourself for comprehensive questions, some of which may touch upon sensitive or personal information or allude to distressing memories that may unpleasantly trigger you in some way. For this the office apologizes ahead of time, but any information (however upsetting it might be) helps us better understand the nature of your experiences and how we may better serve you._

 _If you elect to schedule an appointment, please come prepared with the following:_

— _Two different forms of identification (i.e. valid driver's license; birth certificate; passport)_

— _Any physical evidence of the phenomena in question (including but not limited to photographs of any damage done, wounds inflicted, or other unexplainable anomalies; electronic voice phenomena; amateur video footage)_

— _Documentation from any former professional paranormal investigations_

— _Valid form of payment ($200 upfront consultation fee—we accept cash, check, electronic check, and credit/debit)_

 _Below we have listed the two-hour time slots available for you to meet with Dr. Davis:_

— _10:30 AM Monday, November 20_ _th_

— _2:00-4:00 PM Monday, November 20_ _th_

— _9:00-11:00 AM Tuesday, November 21_ _st_

— _11:30-1:30 PM, Tuesday, November 21_ _st_

— _2:00-4:00 PM, Tuesday, November 21_ _st_

— _9:00-11:00 AM Thursday, November 22_ _nd_

— _11:30-1:30 PM Thursday, November 22_ _nd_

— _2:30-4:40 PM Thursday, November 22_ _nd_

 _If none of these times work for you, feel free to negotiate another meeting time via email, but be aware that because the office is very busy we cannot guarantee approval._

 _We look forward to receiving your response as soon as possible. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact the office._

 _Thank you for considering your patronage with the office of Dr. Davis at BSPR._

 _Best,_

 _Ona J. Kennedy_

 _Secretary to Dr. Oliver E.C. Davis_

Mai sighed and flipped closed the sleek cerulean folder in her hands in an attempt to quash her nerves, which had taken it upon themselves to unpleasantly prickle her ribs with steely electricity every time she thought about what was in the offing at the end of this nine-hour flight. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

No, nothing was ever that simple, but it was worth a try.

A sudden pressure on her right arm stole her attention away from the folder, which was home to several of Hisashi's drawings, a photo of his graffiti on her living room wall, a few loose-leaf sheets of paper with notes on some of her more disconcerting experiences with her son, and a print-out of the email she'd received from BSPR (' _9:00-11:00 AM Tuesday, November 21_ _st_ ' circled in red ink). She glanced down to find Hisashi leaning against her, having finally succumbed to sleep. His chestnut hair fell over his eyes in untidy waves. She could not help but smile. Careful not to disturb him, she slipped her arm out from underneath him and draped it over his tiny shoulders, stroking his arm tenderly.

Just on the periphery of her vision, she caught a glimpse of Yasu dancing together a pile of Pokémon cards—from the game he'd finished with Hisashi some ten minutes prior—into a neat deck. He stuffed the deck into a plastic case and shoved it into his leather shoulder bag carry-on and folded his in-flight table carefully up into the seat in front of him. As if sensing Mai's gaze, he turned to meet her eyes, offering her a kind, tired smile.

She was glad he agreed to fly with her and Hisashi to England for her consultation. Really, 'agreed' was not the proper term; Yasu _insisted_ he go with her, even though it would cost him five of his paid vacation days. He was the only one who understood the circumstances in their entirety, and though Mai had insisted she would be fine on her own ( _probably_ ), he saw through her false reassurance; she always was, and always would be, a terrible liar. Yasu raised a hand to push his glasses back up his nose before threading his fingers through his dark hair with a long yawn.

"Only seven more hours to go," he remarked, his yawn creeping its way into his words. "You think Hisashi will sleep for the rest of the flight?"

Mai smiled sardonically. "Not likely," she replied with a sigh. "When has my luck _ever_ been that favorable?"

He raised an eyebrow, and the smirk on his face communicated to Mai that he'd taken her words as a challenge. "I can think of three instances right off the bat."

"Oh yeah?" she tested, tapping her fingers gently on her left armrest.

"Yeah," he affirmed. "Example one," he began, shifting in his seat to face her completely and nestle his head into the crease between the airplane window and his headrest. "You won that scholarship to study abroad. Example two: you're blessed with my presence."

Mai snorted. "Shut up, no one asked you!" she jested.

" _Example three,"_ he continued on, ignoring her. "You have Hisashi. And actually, you _did_ ask me. Or did you forget already? Don't tell me after all these years Naru was actually _right_ when he said you were stupid!" He punctuated his joke with a wink. Mai meant to roll her eyes, but instead winced as her stomach coiled into a knot at the mention of her haughty former boss. Yasu noticed her change in demeanor and immediately softened his expression and lowered his voice. "Hey, you know I'm just joking…"

"No, I know," she sighed, averting her gaze to the floor. "I'm just…nervous," she explained, though it was still a massive understatement.

She was _petrified_.

"I understand," Yasu inclined his head at her in acknowledgment. "But just remember, it's only Naru."

"But it's been eleven years, Yasu!" she lamented loudly, accidentally causing Hisashi to stir uncomfortably a bit in his slumber. Mai pursed her lips and settled back into her seat before continuing in a loud whisper. "We haven't spoken in eleven years… I don't know what to expect."

Yasu fiddled with his glasses as he often did when lost in thought. After a thoughtful pause, he decided to respond. "Please don't take this the wrong way, because I promise this is not supposed to sound rude," he prefaced, "But the visit isn't really about you this time around." He held up a hand to silence the remonstration he already knew was coming. "You're doing this for Hisashi. And I mean, for you by association, but really this is for _his_ well-being. So this can be understood." His tone harbored no ill-will, so Mai inhaled slowly to smother the reflexive angry flame kindling in her chest.

He was right.

This was for her son and nothing else truly mattered. Hisashi was her main priority. Her uneasy reservations would have to come second.

"And think about it logically," Yasu added with a sincere smile. "Your anxiety is probably rooted in the experiences you had with Naru when you were, what, sixteen? Seventeen? You have nothing else to remember by or to draw from, but you're 27 now so things are bound to be different and I can guarantee that no matter how much you fear you might, you will _not_ react like a teenager. You'll react like an adult, and a mother at that. Try not to psych yourself out, okay?"

Mai nodded and smile weakly, sinking into her seat and closing her eyes for a moment. She silently willed for the flight attendant to make her rounds; what she would have gave for a warm, comforting cup of tea.

"Thanks, Yasu…" she whispered, opening one eye to peer down at her sleeping son. "I know you're right…"

"As always," confirmed Yasu with a sly grin.

This time, Mai successfully rolled her eyes.

"Even though I know this is for Hisashi's own good, I'm still…scared. Of everything," Mai murmured, gesturing nebulously into the empty air.

"What's 'everything'?" Yasu inquired, pushing her on. "Talk to me as much as you need. We've got seven hours. Unless you'd rather play Pokémon…" He snickered, muttering under his breath about how he always just cracked himself up…

"No, no, I'm good," Mai laughed softly. "Talking is fine." She sighed deeply. "On a more minor scale, I'm scared of how much has changed. I know this isn't about me, but I can't help but wonder…" she trailed off, shaking her head to clear her mind. "Change is good, but a lot can change over eleven years. It's just a bit daunting. I hope that isn't selfish…"

"Nah, it's not selfish as long as you keep it in check. It's natural. Though, I think you're lucky."

"Lucky?" Mai repeated incredulously. "Lucky how?"

"At least you have time to prepare yourself for the reunion! Naru, on the other hand, it's going to hit him all at once like a car—" he cut himself off with a fit of ungainly coughs, his cheeks flushing slightly out of embarrassment. "He doesn't even know you're coming," he amended quickly. "God, I didn't think that through at all, did I…" He shook his head at himself, thumping the heel of his hand against his forehead a few times to emphasize his disgrace. Mai tilted her head thoughtfully.

"I hadn't really thought about it, but I suppose you're right," she acknowledged.

"If there was an upper hand to be had, it would be yours," Yasu chuckled softly. The thought gave Mai a shamefully immense amount of satisfaction; for all the time she'd known Naru, he'd always managed to be just one step ahead of her. It seemed like some very longwinded poetic justice for their roles to be reversed all those years later.

She did her best to smother her smugness because she knew that it, like her fears, stemmed from the memories of her adolescent years and was extraordinarily petty.

"I'm so glad you came with me," she blurted suddenly. He cocked an eyebrow at her brashness. "Seriously. I don't know what I'd even be doing without you. This whole situation is so complicated."

"Are you kidding me?" he chortled, sitting forward a bit with bemusement coloring his face. "I wouldn't miss it! I mean, besides," he ruminated out loud, reaching out to affectionately squeeze Hisashi's shoulder. "It _was_ my idea. You know, Uncle Yasu to the rescue and all that…" He winked at her. She returned his sentiment with a warm smile, feeling much lighter than she had just moments ago.

"You'd think that being an adult would make everything so much clearer and simpler. I've been a mother for five years and I still honestly have no idea what I'm doing half the time," she remarked with nervous amusement tinging her voice.

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'fake it till you make it'?" he asked, grinning deviously. "No one actually knows what they're doing. There are just people out there who are really good at acting like they've got it all together. I personally think the word 'adult' was invented to make everyone feel better about the fact that they still have no idea what they're doing or what to expect when they get older. Before, you were just a kid who hadn't a clue about what's going on. Now, you still have no idea what's going on, but at least you're an _adult_ now and everyone _thinks_ you've got your shit together. Smoke and mirrors, Mai. Smoke and mirrors." The sleeping boy jostled a bit in his sleep, suddenly drawing both of their gazes. "And considering the fact that most people don't have an idiosyncratic five-year-old son riddled with thoughts and memories from... ' _Before,'"_ he stated, encapsulating _before_ in dramatic air quotes, "I'd say you're doing a pretty damn good job."

For just a moment, in a comfortable silence, the two of them watched Hisashi's hair flitter with each slow, measured breath.

"Thanks, Yasu," Mai replied humbly, feeling a bit sheepish because she could think of nothing better to offer as gratitude for her friend's comfort. "For what it's worth, you make a pretty convincing adult."

They shared a quiet laugh.

"Nah," he waved a hand at her dismissively. "Most adults don't keep a collection of 500 Pokémon cards in their briefcase."

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity later, cerulean portfolio in hand, Mai found herself sitting in a yellow taxicab with Yasu and her son on their way to Naru's branch office of BSPR, located in a tall business complex in downtown London. She stared silently out the window, her body quivering a bit from a combination of the anxious twinges in her chest, the chill from the thunderous London downpour outside, and a long, drawn-out yawn; even a full day after landing, she still had yet to make a dent in the damage to her sleep schedule generated by her jetlag.

"Mommy?" Hisashi tugged at the sleeve of her yellow pea coat. Mai jumped at the unexpected summons, turning her head to look down. She was met with his curious, shining green eyes.

"Yes, sweetie?" she replied softly.

"Where are we?" he inquired. His face twisted in deep thought. "I think I have been here before." Mai felt her heart stutter. Yasu jerked his head in their direction with an uncharacteristically serious expression. They stared hard at one another.

"We are in a place called London, sweetie..." She answered prudently, her eyes not wandering from Yasu's. "We've never been here before."

"Well I think I have," he insisted. Mai sighed, wishing she had gotten more sleep. Her patience was running thin as it was, and her son accidentally plucking her nerves did not help. Yasu's expression softened, communicating to her a silent sympathy. "Why are we here now?"

She tried to choose her words carefully.

"We…are…" she paused, trying not to express her panic. He was very sensitive to her emotions (and the emotions of everyone else around him, really) and she did not want him to panic, too. If he panicked, he would cry. And right then, if he cried, so would she.

She needed a nap more than her toddler.

"…On vacation," Yasu cut in after Mai's silence lasted a touch too long, glancing down at the boy. Mai exhaled in relief. "Mommy and Uncle Yasu are going to see a friend to ask him some interesting questions."

"Cool!" Hisashi exclaimed, seemingly content with his answer. "Do I know your friend, too?!" His innocent eyes glittered with delight.

Yasu bit his lip and glanced once again at Mai's cinnamon-colored eyes. After what Mai could tell was a thorough deliberation, Yasu finally answered, "Maybe."

* * *

A thin, young blonde woman greeted them in English with a honeyed voice from behind the large receptionist's desk. "Welcome to the office of Dr. Oliver Davis. Can I help you?" Yasu took a step backwards and grasped Hisashi's shoulders firmly to tuck him against his body in order to let Mai do the talking. Yasu's English was always mediocre at best, and ever since finishing his mandatory English courses at university it had only deteriorated.

"Yes, Miss…" Mai eyed the desk, looking for a name plate. "Miss Kennedy. Thank you." Mai took a deep breath to muster up as much courage as she could. "I have an appointment with Na—Dr. Davis."

She wanted to laugh at how foreign that sounded rolling off her tongue.

"Of course," Miss Kennedy acknowledged, eyeing Mai up and down. Mai shifted uncomfortably under her stare. "May I have your client identification number and formal IDs, please?" She pulled her keyboard towards her, readying her perfectly manicured red fingernails to take note of their visitor.

"Ah…" Mai flipped open the azure folder in her hands to recite her number and grabbed her birth certificate and passport from one of the pockets. "Zero zero one seven three six." The secretary stared intensely at her for a moment as Mai slid her documents across the desk, narrowing her eyes just slightly. Mai's skin began to prickle peculiarly as if small clusters of electric sparks wanted to fuse into the circuitry that was her bloodstream, causing the tiny hairs on her body to stand on end. It was odd and marginally unsettling, but she passed it off as her overactive nerves. Miss Kennedy continued to stare until Mai cleared her throat awkwardly. "Should I repeat that?" The woman shook her head, both as an answer and to unclutter her mind.

"No, that will not be necessary," she affirmed, tapping her nails emphatically against the keys. After a few clicks of the mouse, the blonde bit the inside of her cheek and secured a sheet of paper to a clipboard. She eyed Mai one last time, then clicked her tongue before handing her the documents with a black pen. "Please fill out these forms to the best of your ability. It calls for personal information, and if you flip it over," she added, gesturing for Mai to do so, "You'll see several disclaimers we request you to read. They will need initialed." Mai nodded. "You may also take your identification."

"Thank you very much, Miss," Mai answered, bowing slightly before remembering English people did not in fact bow to one another. She felt her face flush. She hastily grabbed her passport and birth certificate and turned on her heels to take a seat, but not before noticing the secretary's condemnatory expression.

" _I could not understand all of that, but she seems to be in a bad mood,"_ Yasu whispered in Japanese. Mai shrugged and took a seat, setting her azure folder below the chair. She began filling out the form as quickly as she could.

" _She_ is _acting a bit pithy. And she won't stop staring at me,"_ she replied at a normal volume, assuming the woman could not understand her. Even if she could, her poor attitude made Mai indifferent to the potential offense. Yasu glanced over at the secretary to confirm Mai's claim.

" _Actually, right now she's staring at Hisashi,"_ he remarked, gripping his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

" _What?"_ Mai looked up from her writing. He was right. She stole a quick glance at her son, who was itching his arms profusely. _"Are you okay, Hisashi? Is something wrong?"_

" _I'm just really itchy mommy,"_ he replied, scrabbling harshly at the pale skin of his extremities. Yasu extended a hand quickly and pulled down the boy's rolled up sweater sleeves to his wrists.

" _Careful, bud! Don't scratch yourself!"_ Yasu warned softly. All at once, Hisashi ceased his itching.

" _It's okay Uncle Yasu, it doesn't itch anymore."_ Yasu cocked his head, confused at his sudden change in comportment. Mai narrowed her eyes and trailed her gaze back towards Miss Kennedy. She was now looking away from them.

It was probably just a coincidence.

She returned her attention to the form. Her eyes lazily skimmed the words of the first disclaimer; she was not retaining any of its content. She was too tired and anxious for what was to come, so she hastily initialed all of them at once and nearly jogged her way back to the front desk.

"I'm finished," Mai huffed, feeling a bit winded. "Is there anything else I need to provide for you?" She held out the clipboard towards Miss Kennedy, who took it diplomatically and gave it a once-over before responding. Her eyes appeared to widen in shock, but as quickly as it came, it was gone and replaced with a look Mai could not decipher.

"You came all the way from Tokyo?" the woman inquired, absentmindedly tossing some of her long, straight flaxen hair behind her shoulder.

"Yes," Mai nodded. "I assume you don't get many international clients, then." Miss Kennedy shook her head.

"Was there not a paranormal office closer to your home that could've helped you? Surely it would've saved you time and money."

 _Not that it's your concern,_ Mai thought.

"I'm sure there are more paranormal offices around than I could count, but none of them have the expertise and reputation of BSPR and Dr. Davis."

"I see," the woman answered, pushing herself away from her desk to stand. Mai observed that the clerk was several inches taller than her, and that she dressed much more sophisticated and voguish than Mai did when she was Naru's office assistant. She pressed her lips together invidiously. "I will check to see if Dr. Davis will see you now." Yasu understood enough that he stood up and stretched to prepare himself for relocation. Hisashi followed suit, mimicking his motions. Just as Miss Kennedy was about to round the corner into the hallway, she glanced back and paused momentarily.

"I'm sorry, we're going to have to ask that only you come back for the meeting first Miss…" She consulted the form she held in her hand. "Taniyama. We would like a clear account of your experiences without outside stimuli. I hope you understand."

"But Hisashi is my son and the reason I am here!" she called after her. But she was already gone. She frowned. Suddenly, an arm wrapped around her shoulder comfortingly, her folder clutched carefully in the associated hand.

" _Don't worry, Mai,"_ Yasu reassured. _"I'll take Hisashi to the nearest vending machine and get him some juice."_ Mai opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed on, ignoring her. _"You will be fine. I promise."_ He squeezed her tightly in affirmation. She exhaled slowly and pried the folder from his grip, apprehension dissolving the lining of her stomach.

" _Okay… Thank you for watching him."_ Yasu nodded _. "Hisashi,"_ Mai crooned, stooping down so she could look him in the eyes. _"Behave for Uncle Yasu, okay? Mommy will be back soon."_ He looked incredibly confused, but he nodded anyways. _"Good boy,"_ she finished, kissing him gently on the forehead before standing up straight again. She heard the secretary beckon her from behind.

"The doctor is ready now. Please, follow me," she offered with a half-hearted smile. Mai swallowed harshly and nodded. She glanced nervously at her friend.

" _Good luck,"_ he mouthed silently. _"Are you ready to go on an adventure with Uncle Yasu, Hisashi?!"_ He asked with dramatic zeal.

" _Yeah!"_ the little boy shouted. Yasu laughed, guided Hisashi to the door with a hand on his back, and gave Mai a quick nod before taking his leave. She sucked in a deep breath and held it, striding towards Miss Kennedy and following her down a very artificially lit hallway lined with several doors labeled with polished gold plaques with highly contrasting black letters. With each step, she felt her heartbeat quicken, and it skipped a beat entirely when she read a plaque on one of the closed doors: _Koujou Lin._ She nervously glanced ahead of her at the door directly next to Lin's on the right. It was open just a crack. Her gut instinct told her it was Naru's.

This was it.

No turning back now.

The reality was setting in.

Her heart jumped into her throat, momentarily bringing to a halt her already hitched breathing. The blonde rapped on the door gently with a knuckle.

"Dr. Davis, your client is ready to see you now," she stated with the most vivacity she'd had since Mai's arrival.

"Come in," a familiar smooth, baritone voice called from behind the door. The clerical worker pushed the door open confidently and strode into the office, Mai following close behind in her wake. Maybe the secretary's confidence would mask her own distress. Mai glanced around the large, tidy office. It was structured almost identically to his office she remembered in Shibuya. He always was a creature of habit. Her eyes fell upon a familiar handsome figure sitting at a beautifully crafted desk.

There he was.

Naru sat with great poise, eyes closed and to Mai's great amusement, sipping a cup of tea. Again, creature of habit. She would have laughed if she did not feel like she was slowly asphyxiating.

"Doctor, this is Miss Taniyama," the woman said. Immediately, Naru's eyes snapped open and he wheezed sharply, gasping the hot liquid into his lungs. He began to cough fitfully and slammed his cup down on the wooden surface in front of him. He pushed himself away from his desk and stood up, balancing himself on it with one hand and bringing the other to his mouth in a fist as he continued to cough.

Both women stared at him with wide eyes in silence, too startled to make any sudden movements.

He fought desperately to stabilize his breathing and regain his composure. It would be just her luck that he would die at the very sight of her after all these years, she thought cynically.

His coughing waned, and eventually he was left measuring his liquid-laced breaths. He finally cleared his throat and stood up straight as if it had never happened. Storm clouds gathered in his unyielding, deep blue eyes, which fixated finally on Mai's auburn ones. His expression was devoid of palpable emotion. His clenched teeth, however, gave away the astonishment he labored to conceal. It had been several years, but she still remembered how to read his indifference.

His secretary looked back and forth between the two quickly, visibly confused.

A heavy silence settled over the room. Many times Naru's mouth opened and closed as if he wished to say something, but his words never made it past his lips.

He cleared his throat.

" _Mai?"_ She blinked in response. _"You're…Why?"_ he stammered lamely in Japanese, looking away to brush out the invisible wrinkles and lint in his trademark black shirt. Miss Kennedy gawked at him a bit. Once he deemed his attire suitably pressed, he returned his gaze to her, scrutinizing her entire being.

Mai took a deep breath and finally found her voice. "Hello, Oliver," she began in practiced English, inclining her head towards him in acknowledgment. She grimaced at his proper name. "It's good to see you, too."


	8. Jamais Vu

_A/N: I know, I know, finally, right?! I apologize for the lengthy delay! The last few weeks have been...odd. I'm still on the hunt for a job; I've had a few bites, but none of them have panned out into anything. Finding a job is my first and foremost priority. I got a promising hit today, though, so hopefully that goes somewhere! What with the stress of finding a job and other things going on on my end, my GAD has been rather unpleasant the last few days and I just could not bring myself to write when I was feeling low like that. I'm better for now! So hooray! I usually have a good grip on my GAD nowadays, but I still have my bad days. I hope you understand._

 _Anywho! I'm back to the grind, at least for now-aside from job searching and reading some important stuff. Hopefully I won't have a gap that long again. Thank you to all of those who commented and/or sent me PMs on the last chapter! They are greatly appreciated. For the sake of brevity, I will not be addressing any of them individually._

 _I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I think it was. I really like how it came out, so hopefully so will you. (Please forgive me of any typos; I tried to make sure there are none, but you can only stare at the same word document for so long.)_

 _Please R & R, check out my other works (if you please), and as always, enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter Seven:**

 _ **Jamais Vu**_

The steady _tick_ of the golden pendulum clock perched tastefully on the wall beside the door was the only indication to Mai that time had indeed not come to a halt.

For several moments, Naru did not speak. He did not move. He did not blink. She wasn't even sure if he was breathing. He simply stood there, stoic as ever, poring over her from head to toe with frustratingly unreadable indigo eyes. Not knowing what to say, Mai settled for returning the gesture and surveying the distantly familiar man in front of her.

He was the same, yet so very…different. He had grown several inches since their last encounter, towering over her petite stature more than ever. Though still lanky and lean, his build appeared sturdier—though it could have an artifice created by his trademark loose-fitting black jacket, which covered the first bit of colored clothing she'd ever seen him wear: a burgundy dress shirt immaculately tucked into his black slacks. The dark hair that once obscured his eyes—which were as lurid and penetrating as Mai remembered—now swept neatly across his forehead and directed more attention to the sharp curvature of his jaw.

The blonde situated awkwardly between the two wrinkled her nose in displeasure before pointedly breaking the silence. "So you _do_ know each other then." Without disturbing his gaze, Naru nodded, only half-listening.

 _"_ _Mai Taniyama,"_ he affirmed. _"Are you here for business?"_ He crossed his arms and straightened his posture.

Of course. Business as always. The usual. Mai smiled and internally rolled her eyes.

"I am," she confirmed, fiddling with her sweater sleeve distractedly. "I am here as a client. Case number zero-zero-one-seven-three-six," she clarified with an awkward laugh.

 _"_ _A client?"_ he repeated, turning his attention to his secretary for the first time. He gestured for her to hand him the clipboard in her hands and surveyed its contents while he continued to speak. _"You travelled here to consult with me on paranormal matters?"_

"That _is_ what your business does, right?" she chided with a playful smirk. "Or am I mistaken?" His eyes flickered up from the clipboard.

" _Of course not,"_ he responded dryly.

"Though, it really is good to see you, er, Oliver," Mai said earnestly, rubbing the back of her neck. His given name never failed to fill her with a thorny and unwarranted embarrassment. He blinked and returned his stare to the paperwork in his hands, briefly hesitating before responding.

 _"_ _Likewise,"_ he agreed.

Another silence settled over the room, one that was significantly less uncomfortable, but still awkward nonetheless. Naru fleetingly licked his forefinger to quickly leaf through the pages in his hands. Mai rocked back and forth on her heels and shot a glance over to Miss Kennedy, whose eyes were already intently glued to her. Her pale hands were situated impatiently on her hips. Mai flashed her a smile, but when the gesture went unreturned her face flushed crimson and she averted her eyes abashedly.

Without looking away from Mai, Miss Kennedy broke the silence once again.

"Shall we get started Dr. Davis, Miss Taniyama?" The tinge of sweetness she added to her voice was negated almost entirely by the sour look in her eyes. Naru lifted his gaze from the clipboard.

"Yes, of course," he said, his voice a bit gravelly. He cleared his throat softly. " _Please, have a seat Miss Taniyama,"_ he insisted. He gestured to one of two very plush, velvety red chairs facing his desk before moving to situate himself back into his own.

Before she could stop herself, Mai began to snicker. Naru paused, already halfway to sitting down, and glanced up at her. He raised an eyebrow.

 _"_ _May I ask what is so amusing?"_

"I'm sorry, but you've been speaking to me in Japanese this entire time," she explained, her words seasoned with giggles. "You do realize I am speaking English, right?"

He said nothing for a few seconds before he finally lowered himself all the way into his chair, still staring at her intently. If she hadn't known any better, she would've thought his eyes were betraying a sudden perplexity.

But this was Naru she was talking about, so of course as quickly as came, it vanished.

"I see," he responded, biting the inside of his cheek lightly. "I will continue in English then, if you find it agreeable."

"Of course," she replied, sinking down into the lush cushions. "Plus, I'd hate to be _rude_ to your secretary, as it does not appear she speaks any Japanese at all," she added a bit more smugly than she had intended. Miss Kennedy, who had sat down in the chair adjacent to hers, sniffed disdainfully and crossed her legs, making no effort to correct her.

Naru folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "I must admit that you speak English very proficiently. I'm surprised."

"It was one of my concentrations in university."

"University," he repeated to himself, as if packing it away for later. Mai nodded. "I see."

"Yeah…" Mai exhaled, twirling a piece of her brown hair around her finger absently. "So… How have you been?" she inquired cautiously. Was that even an appropriate question to ask after eleven years?

"With all due respect, Miss Taniyama—" Naru began before Mai unceremoniously interrupted.

"Mai," she interjected. She flushed and faltered a bit under the secretary's affronted glare. How dare she interrupt the precious Dr. Davis? Mai pursed her lips uncomfortably. "I-I mean, just… You can call me Mai, you know. I would prefer it."

Naru blinked. "With all due respect _Mai,_ " he corrected, "I would like to keep the pleasantries to a minimum as you are here for a professional consultation during which we have limited time to discuss the matters at hand."

If it were anyone but Naru, she would've been offended to be passed off so pithily after such a long-winded reunion, but she knew his intentions were not ill. It was simply good business practice.

"Right, sorry. Continue," she granted, waving her hand at him animatedly.

"Thank you," he acknowledged with a nod. "So can you briefly explain to me the circumstances that have been troubling your residence? I would like to take a client statement on the record." He opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a leather portfolio and a fancy black and gold pen. He clicked the end emphatically to indicate he was ready to engage. Mai nodded.

"Okay, y-yeah," Mai stammered nervously. She'd briefly forgotten she would have to explain to him the absurdity that was her son's…behaviors. Great. This was going to be tricky. She took in a shaky, stilted breath in a vain attempt to muster her courage. "Around the time my son turned…two, I think? One and a half? Anyways," she coughed, "My son began… _behaving_ very strangely."

Naru paused in his note-taking to pass a glance at her. "Your son?" he inquired, appearing the faintest bit taken aback.

"Yes, my son," Mai asserted. "Hisashi. He turned five at the beginning of the month."

"I see," he replied, finishing his written thought before continuing his interrogation. "Do you have any examples of these unusual behaviors?"

"I do!" Mai piped, sliding her cerulean folder across the smooth surface of his desk. "I've written down as many as I can remember." As she retracted her arm, the odd prickling sensation she felt before in the lobby returned, spidering unpleasantly up from her fingertips into the right side of her neck. She shuddered violently. Then, all at once, the sensation ceased, punctuated by an irritated sigh from Miss Kennedy. Out of the corner of her eye Mai peeked at the moody woman, who was rubbing her temple tenaciously, eyes closed and head bowed to the floor.

Something about her was just not quite right, but Mai could not put her finger on it.

"For the sake of time," Naru began, shocking her out of her stupor, "Can you explain to me in a few sentences any overarching similarities between the incidences?"

"O-okay, I'll try…" Mai furrowed her brow, digging carefully for the right words. "It's… He…" she sighed heavily. "Well, Hisashi insists that he is remembering things from 'Before'," Mai explicated, air quoting 'Before' to indicate its chronic importance. "Ever since he was young and learned to speak, hearing him talk about Before was a regular occurrence. Before this, Before that…" she trailed off, biting her lip gently.

"And you do not believe this is merely a product of a child's inventive imagination?" he inquired skeptically, raising an eyebrow at her. Anger flushed her chest, spiking her heartrate for moment. She did not need his dubious and self-righteous attitude. Especially when it involved the well-being of her son.

"No, I don't," she stately confidently. She folded her arms emphatically, readying herself to contest his typical sarcastic condescension and cold leer.

But it never came.

"Alright," he responded, closing the debate. Mai blinked.

"That's it?" snorted Miss Kennedy, verbalizing Mai's surprise. "What made _you_ change your tune so quickly?" She sat up straight, eyeing him suspiciously.

Without batting an eye, Naru responded, "She has given me no reason to continue under the assumption that she is either lying or ignorant. I trust her instincts." Mai scrunched her face into a proud smirk.

Ha.

"Thank you," Mai recognized, inclining her head toward him gratefully. "Trust me, I _wish_ it was just Hisashi's imagination. But… It's just too coincidental. He's remembering things he most certainly shouldn't…"

"Such as?" he questioned while flipping to a new page in his folio. How could he _already_ have a page of notes? She hadn't even gotten to the good part yet.

"Memories… Memories that belonged to someone else."

"Belonged? You believe the owner of these purported memories is deceased, then?"

Mai gulped. "I-I do…" Quiet once again settled over the room, disturbed only by the scratching of Naru's pen. The secretary shifted in her seat, brushing her hands across the top of her head to flatten her already flawlessly styled hair. Mai frowned faintly and idly touched her own hair, which was slightly disheveled from her lack of sleep (and therefore her lack of caring) and frizzing into chestnut tangles from the humidity brought on by the rain.

"Perhaps your son is a latent medium?" Miss Kennedy suggested. "Maybe he's communicated with a spirit and is simply repeating what it articulated to him?"

Mai shook her head. "I don't think so. Well, actually," Mai considered, "he _could_ be a latent medium, but if he is, I don't think that has anything to do with these memories. Honestly I think it's unrelated entirely." Miss Kennedy pressed her lips together. "I have a hunch—a really, _really_ farfetched hunch—and have reason to believe the spirit to whom these memories belonged has long since moved on."

"So…" Naru started, pausing again to write a word Mai could not decipher from her seat. "Are you suggesting that your son may be reincarnated, then?" He circled the word several times and accompanied it with a bold question mark.

"I really don't know _what_ I'm suggesting," she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. At the same time her fingertips brushed her skin, the odd bristly current she'd felt just minutes ago spiked down through her spine. Again she shuddered, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck to rid herself of the tingling. Her attempt was only mildly successful, but she continued despite her trifling discomfort. "I've considered it a possibility. That was actually Yasu's first theory."

"Yasuhara?" Naru asked. Mai blinked.

"Yeah, Yasu. Why?"

Naru sat back in his chair a bit. "I was merely unaware that you two were still in contact." Mai opened her mouth to respond but was quickly cut off. "Is Yasuhara the child's father?"

Mai felt her heart explode in her throat, and for the third time since their meeting began, tingles shook her whole body. Only this time, she knew the source: unequivocal embarrassment. A blush overcame her face as she sputtered adamant refusals. "A-absolutely _not!_ Not in a million years! God no, he's like my brother! We're just friends!" Mai realized she was halfway out of her chair and forced herself down into the luxurious cushion. An amused smirk pulled at the corner of Naru's mouth.

Mai felt a lot of things towards Yasu—namely gratitude—but not a single one of them was even a smidgen, an _iota_ romantic.

"He's a very good friend and he has helped me with Hisashi since the beginning, but he is _not_ the father," Mai continued. "In fact, Hisashi calls him Uncle Yasu." She took a deep breath to abate the red glow in her cheeks. "But if you don't mind I'd like to go back to the subject at hand, please."

"Of course, as you wish," Naru agreed, still smirking weakly. "There is little admissible evidence to suggest that reincarnation exists in the first place." Mai nodded. "But, for the sake of it, let's operate under the assumption that it does. Though I feel it is unlikely, do you have any idea whose memories your son may be remembering?"

"Actually…yes," she mumbled softly, averting her eyes.

"May I ask who? And do you have any evidence to support it?"

Mai inhaled slowly through her nose and exhaled steadily through her mouth. "That's where it gets complicated. Here," she patted the cerulean folder and pushed it as far as she could reach. "Just take a look for yourself. I really don't know how to explain this to you…" Naru slid the folder closer and flipped it open on his desk, giving the contents a quick once-over before looking back towards Mai for further instruction. "Feel free to look at everything in there, but… A good place to start might be the second photo in the right pocket." He gently slipped the photo in question from the folder. "This was taken within the last two weeks. Hisashi drew that image on my living room wall. It's…ultimately what drove me to seek help. _Your_ help."

He turned the photo in his hands a few times before settling on the printed side to examine the image.

Mai held her breath.

Moments later, Naru's eyes widened, and for the first time Mai could remember he did nothing to conceal the astonishment in his countenance. He pressed the photo harshly back onto the desk, snapping his attention back directly to Mai's russet-colored eyes. He stared penetratingly, face contorted in an unreadable mix of emotion.

"That's not…" he began before trailing off. Mai shrugged timidly. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, of course not! Why would I waste five vacation days and three paychecks on a plane ticket just to come get a chuckle out of someone I haven't seen in eleven years?" Mai responded curtly, mildly offended.

"Have you ever discussed this event with your son? Did he draw this based on a story you told him?" The tone of his voice had changed, each word a strop to sharpen its edge. Mai winced.

"Why would I tell a story like that to my _five-year-old_ son?" Mai retorted. "Besides, that's hardly the first incident. I've detailed at least a dozen more occasions!"

"This is ludicrous—"

" _Don't_ you take that tone with me _Dr. Davis,"_ Mai warned.

"There is hardly a need to speak to the doctor that way—" The fair-haired woman began to lecture, but silenced herself abruptly when Naru raised a hand to stop her.

"No need, Miss Kennedy. She's correct. That was unprofessional of me and I apologize," he rejoined, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Damn right you do!" Mai huffed, feeling oddly proud of herself. Her face softened. "Look, I know that this seems completely unbelievable o-or fake o-or… I don't know what else. Whatever," Mai shook her head quickly to recover her focus. "But I know something is going on and I haven't the slightest idea… I thought if anyone would know what's going on, it would be you. For a few obvious reasons."

Naru sighed. "I don't particularly believe in reincarnation, Mai."

"Well, I don't either. At least, I _didn't._ But I don't know anymore. I'm running out of explanations. It seems like as more and more time passes, he becomes just a little more like…well…you know." Mai stuck her tongue out in distaste at her impropriety, but she really could think of no better way to phrase it.

"Like _who?"_ the secretary demanded. "What is going on?" The other two ignored her griping.

"I'm not entirely convinced. Perhaps there is a more logical explanation. Did you bring your son with you to London?" Naru inquired, leaning his elbows on the desk and resting his chin on his folded hands.

"I did. He should be out in the lobby with Yasu. They went to go get some juice…" Her voice petered out under the scrutiny of his indecipherable azure eyes.

"Would you be willing to bring him into my office?"

"I… Are you sure?" Mai bit her lip and stood slowly.

"Would I have asked if I wasn't?"

Mai rolled her eyes and smiled. "Right, I forgot who I was talking to." She turned to return to the lobby, but paused in the doorway. "Can Yasu come, too?"

"I suppose. That's the end of your guest list, right? It's getting a bit crowded for my taste."

"That's it, yeah," she laughed and stepped out into the bright hallway.

Once he was sure she was out of ear shot, he slid the controversial photo over towards his secretary. She snatched it up eagerly.

"What is it?" she asked impatiently.

"Look closer," Naru insisted. The woman squinted, examining the details of the crude drawing. All at once her eyes snapped open wide.

" _Oh._ "

"Do you understand now?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes… I mean…" she groaned. "Noll, what the hell is going on? Who is this woman?"

"That's not important at the moment."

"Like hell it isn't!"

" _Ona,"_ he challenged. "I will explain later," he replied tersely, signifying the end of the discussion.

"Fine," she conceded. "I've been trying to get a good view of her, but even at a close range I can barely see anything. Or of her son. The only one I can Concentrate on without a blasted headache is this _Yasu_ character. Their energies are so… _muddled."_

"You shouldn't need remote viewing to be able to read her. She is not exactly quiet about how she feels."

Miss Kennedy frowned. "You think you can do a better job than me?" He simply shrugged.

"I'm just saying that it is not that difficult."

The unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Ona shot a quick glance at the door before leaning over in her chair towards his desk. "I can see more than just feelings. You know that," she mumbled. "I can barely see anything at all. I can't tell if she's being truthful or—" Naru suddenly shot out of his seat, causing the woman to jump to her feet. "Noll?!" she exclaimed, visibly alarmed. She surveyed his face; his eyes were the most eclectic she'd ever seen them. She felt her heart sink into her stomach. "Noll, what's wrong?"

The dark-haired man said nothing, keeping his eyes fixated on the entry of his office. He took a few steps forward, positioning himself next to the chair in which Miss Kennedy resided seconds before.

"It can't be…" he murmured. He raised a hand to his forehead, feeling around it for something his secretary could not see. He slipped the same hand into his thick hair, threading it tightly between his fingers.

An intimately familiar niggle, one he had not felt for nearly thirteen years (and truthfully did not expect to ever again), nudged at the corner of his consciousness.

"Gene…?" he breathed.

The footsteps drew closer, filling the doorway with three figures—two familiar and one new. A brown-haired little boy, who already stood half as tall as his mother, clung tightly to her hand. Naru opened his mouth to say something, but was a few seconds too late. The little boy had already sprung into action. With bright, awestruck green eyes and a goofy grin, he dropped his mother's hand and charged directly at the tall man's legs. The tiny body collided with his limbs with surprising force, knocking him backwards slightly and expelling the air from his lungs. He froze—eyes wide, mouth hanging open, and arms spread-eagle in the empty air—gawking at the foreign lifeform cohering to his legs. He couldn't even bring himself to tear his eyes away to glare at the source of a poorly-suppressed chortle. Yasu, he presumed.

 _"_ _Naru-chan!"_ delightedly cried the youth.

The jaws of all others present in the room dropped, now perfectly mirroring Naru's dumbfounded expression.

The silence that followed was deafening.

After an unknown amount of time passed— _too long_ , Naru thought—Mai tried to clear her throat of the gauche quiet. In a grainy voice, she managed, "So… Will you help us?"

He hesitated, slowly raising his gaze to meet hers. He instead found himself looking at the wall behind her.

"I don't know."

* * *

 **A/N: Joke: An alternate name for this chapter is _Shut Up Ona._**


	9. Through Hell or High Water

_A/N: Annnnnnnnnnd here you FINALLY go, folks! That only took like forever and a day, right? I'm sorry it took so long, but thank you so much for being patient with me. My graduate classes are officially OVER for the summer! After shoving two classes with a semester's worth of work into five weeks, I am done. It was a lot of writing and ate up a lot of my time, but it was worth it. I did very well! Now I'm free again until the 29th, when the fall semester starts! Hopefully I can churn out another chapter or two in the mean time! Come the fall I will have school AND my job (woohoo!) to focus on, but I'll have the whole semester to divide my work so hopefully I will have more free time to dedicate to writing. It's stressing me out not knowing my schedule, but alas, I won't know until the end of the month. I only hope you will continue to be patient with little old me!_

 _Anyways! Here is chapter 8 after a long break! It's a decent length and I hope you guys enjoy it. I call it "the chapter of arguments" affectionately. Thanks to all who reviewed my previous chapter! I read all of them and appreciate the kind words. Please R &R! I love to hear your thoughts and feedback! Also, if you haven't, you should check out my other Ghost Hunt fan fictions! And of course, as always, enjoy!_

 _P.S. If you want to keep up to date with me and my update schedule, just take a peek at my profile page! I try to keep tabs there. Also! There is a poll n there that I would really appreciate y'all taking the time to answer! I really, really want to start my own original story, and I'm curious to see how many out there would be interested in reading something original of mine._

* * *

 **Chapter Eight:**

 **Through Hell or High Water**

"You _don't know?"_ Mai chided crossly. "What does that even mean?!" She threw her arms out to the sides in frustration, accidentally whacking Yasu in the ribs. She dropped her arms immediately and whispered a brief apology before returning her attention to the maddening, self-righteous doctor. "Well?"

"It means," Naru began, wiggling a leg discretely to try and pare off the child still clinging to his legs, "I don't know." To Naru's displeasure, Hisashi showed no signs of relent.

Mai rolled her eyes.

" _Please_ help us. I came all the way here because I honestly believe you are the only paranormal investigator that _can_ help us. Not to mention…" she gestured awkwardly and frantically towards her son, her pregnant pause bursting with implied desperation.

"What is it you propose I do?" Naru frowned, folding his arms.

"Aren't you supposed to have the answer to that question? I'm not paying _myself_ for answers because I clearly don't have any!"

He shifted awkwardly, deliberating her retort. "This is the first case of its kind that I have considered. I have no protocol. There's nothing on which to base my next course of action."

"And that's stopped you before?" Mai inquired almost sarcastically, raising an eyebrow and folding her arms.

"No," he conceded. "But, the subjects of my case are usually not suspected re-embodiments of my dead brother."

" _Mommy?"_ Hisashi interrupted, mumbling against Naru's pant leg. _"Why are you yelling? Am I in trouble?"_ Mai blinked and averted her penetrating gaze to her son, softening her expression immediately.

" _Oh, sweetie, no…"_ she knelt on one knee and placed a hand on Hisashi's shoulder to draw his face from the pant cloth. _"You didn't do anything wrong."_

" _With all due respect, Mai,"_ Naru cut in curtly, _"would you mind removing your son from my leg?"_ Mai glanced upwards, her eyes daring him to continue.

"His name is Hisashi, if you don't mind," she insisted, returning to English momentarily. Naru rolled his eyes and sighed, rousing in Mai an all-too-familiar annoyance that was unconsciously reserved for the one and only Oliver Davis. She pursed her lips to suppress the child-like rant she felt building in her throat.

She was much too tired for this.

She squeezed Hisashi's shoulder gently, coaxing him away from the tall man's leg and into her arms. She stood up straight, jostling the boy in her grasp until she could balance him comfortably against her hip. Naru nodded silently in thanks.

" _Please_ help us," Mai begged again.

"With all due respect, Miss Taniyama," Ona cut in, causing Mai to jump; she'd nearly forgotten she was there. "I believe the doctor has made his current intention quite clear. There is no need to further badger him about it."

"Badger him?!" Mai cried. She felt anger flush her cheeks. Her eyes burned.

She was dangerously close to snapping.

"Yes, _badger_ him," the blonde emphasized, crossing her slender arms in the process.

"I'm not badgering anyone!"

"I would beg to differ."

"Since when do you speak for Na—Dr. Davis?"

Ona turned to face Naru, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Dr. Davis, would you like me to escort Miss Taniyama and her friend to the exit?"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not standing here!" Mai shouted angrily. "Just who do you think you are?!" She paused, expecting a petty retort, but the blonde remained quiet, still staring intently at Naru as if she had not heard Mai's cries. This only incensed her further. "Oh come _on!"_ she shouted again, disturbing the child in her arms. He fretfully recoiled, buried his face into her shoulder, and began to wail. Mai slapped her forehead and slid it down the side of her face in exasperation. "Now look what you've done!"

"I've done absolutely nothing out of turn, Miss Taniyama! I've merely—!"

"Like hell you haven't!" Mai interrupted. She winced, carefully readjusting the wailing child against her hip. Her arm was beginning to quiver—from ire, fatigue, or her son's incessant blubbering, she did not know. "You have done nothing but be unpleasant since we got here!"

"That is completely out of line—!"

" _Enough,"_ Naru uttered with such cogency the room silenced immediately, save for Hisashi's whimpers. All eyes laid on him intently. As Mai labored to steady her angry puffing, she noted the look of complete and utter annoyance consuming his features. His right elbow rested on the left arm tucked across his chest; he was pinching the bridge of his nose so tightly that a small red mark was already developing on his pale skin. "Mai, I do not have an answer for you—at least one that will satisfy you—in this very moment. So, it is for that reason I believe you should go."

Mai's mouth fell open. She felt her heart sink like an anchor into her stomach, triggering tears to prickle at the rim of her eyes.

"But—!"

"We have nothing left to discuss right now."

"Yes we—!"

"Miss Kennedy, please see Miss Taniyama and Mr. Yasuhara to the door."

" _I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU, OLIVER DAVIS!"_ Mai screeched over the sniveling of her son, reverting furiously to her native tongue. _"I can't believe after all this time you still turn away people who truly need your help—!"_

" _Mai,"_ interrupted Yasu, stepping up to her side and placing a hand gently on the small of her back. Mai jumped at the sudden invocation of her name. _"Come on now. Let's go, okay?"_ She scanned her friend's face with her reddening eyes; he was remarkably calm. _"It's not worth it to yell."_

" _But…"_ she trailed off, unable to think of a proper rebuttal.

" _Let's go before the weather gets worse,"_ he suggested. She sniffed harshly and wiped her nose on her yellow sleeve before nodding feebly.

"Miss Kennedy," Naru prompted again, gesturing towards his guests. He leaned back against the edge of his desk and sighed.

"Please, right this way," Ona cooed with no attempt to veil the hints of pride and malice tinging her voice. She ushered Mai and Yasu towards the threshold. Just before Yasu was to step outside the door behind Mai, he paused and turned around to face Ona.

"Eh… I can have…" Yasu began uncertainly. "I can have one moment please?" He punctuated his tawdry English with a goofy smile.

"Uh…" Ona mused. She glanced at Naru warily. "Doctor?"

Finally relinquishing his nose from his thumb and forefinger, he barely turned his head towards Ona. "Give us just a moment." Ona nodded and followed Mai into the hallway and moved towards the lobby. Once the women were out of earshot and Hisashi's distress was but a distant cry, Naru shifted his blue eyes towards Yasu. _"How can I help you?"_

" _I'll make this as brief as possible,"_ Yasu said, adjusting his glasses a bit. _"I realize that this has been a bit…shocking for you,"_ Yasu laughed a bit, _"So you can at least imagine how it has been for Mai, because he is her son."_ Naru blinked and remained quiet. Even so, Yasu knew he was listening. _"I'm not trying to force you to make a decision, but I would like to point out that Mai traveled thousands of miles away to speak to you when she very well could have stayed and sought help in Japan without seeking your help or opinion at all."_

" _I am aware,"_ Naru responded with a curt nod.

" _Out of every parapsychologist in the world, she trusts_ you _."_

" _Rightfully so."_

Yasu smirked and rolled his eyes. _"Though this is first and foremost Mai's problem, it is also yours."_

" _Allegedly."_

Yasu narrowed his eyes momentarily. _"What I am trying to say is that she came here for you, too. I recognize that this is an unconventional way to greet an old friend after eleven years, but…"_ He hesitated, deliberating his words. _"As her best friend and as your old friend, I am asking you to at least please consider taking on her case. Even if it is a bit personal and bizarre."_

Naru ran a hand through his dark hair, disturbing its tidy resting place _. "As I said: I will consider it, but I will make no promises."_

" _I'm not sure if this means anything, but don't just think about doing it for me or Mai,"_ Yasu suggested. He adjusted then red tie around his neck with poise. _"Think about doing it for Gene."_

Naru said nothing.

" _If you come to a decision,"_ Yasu said, reaching into his inside coat pocket for his wallet and removing a strip of paper from its contents, _"Give us a call or something. This is the hotel and room we are staying in, as well as our room phone extension."_ He held the paper out towards Naru, who gently took it and placed it in his pocket.

" _I will,"_ Naru agreed.

" _Thank you!"_ Yasu beamed. He extended an arm, engaging Naru in a firm handshake. _"It was good to see you, Naru. I hope to see you around."_

And with that, Yasu turned on his heels animatedly to take his leave.

* * *

After gladly dismissing the infuriating client and her friend, Ona sauntered back into the doctor's office. She found him still sitting on his desk, leaning back on his hands and staring at the rain pounding against his office window.

She shut the door behind them and locked it with a pronounced _click_ and folded her arms.

"So what the bloody hell was all that then, Noll?" Ona inquired crossly. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"A rather tumultuous meeting, don't you think?" he suggested sarcastically.

"You know that isn't what I meant," she huffed, unfolding her arms and perching them on her hips.

"Then you'll have to be more specific," he replied, turning his head to finally look at her. His icy eyes lanced her own cobalt ones, but she was not intimidated by him or his newly foul attitude.

"Who in the blazes was that woman?" She took a step forward, tapping a finger impatiently against the waistband of her skirt. He opened his mouth to respond, but she interjected: "And don't you dare say 'Mai Taniyama' or so help me I will smack you." He shut it immediately to rethink his words.

"She was an old colleague of mine," he answered finally. "Back when I operated the SPR branch in Japan."

"Funny, you've never mentioned her."

Ona looked highly unamused.

"I didn't think it was necessary." He shrugged dismissively. "You've read my publications. You know with whom I worked, just not by name. Mai was my assistant."

Ona's eyes widened. "The _clairvoyant?"_ He nodded. "Well that would explain a bit why she was so hard to read…" She mumbled to herself. "And the gentleman?"

"Osamu Yasuhara. A former researcher of mine."

"I see." She sniffed disdainfully, glancing about the room in contemplation before meeting his gaze again.

"If you don't mind, Miss Kennedy, I have some business I need to attend to," Naru announced, nodding his head towards the door.

"Oh no, Oliver, we're not done here." Ona took another step forward confidently. Naru cocked his head to the side slightly, challenging her. He noted that the look on her face suggested she was waiting for him to say something, but he could not be sure so he decided the best course of action was to remain silent. She took in a measured breath. "Go ahead, ask me if I'm upset."

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Are you?"

"Clearly, Noll!" she shouted, striding forward until she was a mere half-meter away from him. She scanned his face, again waiting for him to speak. He knew better; he'd argued enough times with her to figure out that she'd tell him exactly what to say and still be furious anyways. He'd rather save himself the extra effort and aggravation. "C'mon now, _really._ Aren't you going to ask me why?"

He sighed deeply. "Why?"

"Because your client was an absolute _nightmare!_ "

"Need I remind you that you were the one who convinced me to take the case in the first place?" Her cheeks turned an aggressive shade of red.

"I am aware, Noll, but that doesn't change the fact of the matter!" She paused. He rolled his eyes discretely and gestured with a hand for her to continue. "I could barely see _anything._ About her, or her son! That's part of why I suggested the boy might be latent medium. I normally only have trouble seeing people with some degree of psychic ability, which are extremely far and few between. And I'll tell you what: it's frustrating as hell! Not to mention he's but _five years old_ and I'm almost _twenty-four!"_ She sighed loudly, raising her pointer fingers to massage her temples. "I now have a splitting headache and I'm exhausted."

"It's neither Mai's nor her son's fault that you can't read them," Naru purported.

"Are you saying I'm weak?!" She yelled, dropping her hands to her sides and clenching them into fists.

" _Ona,"_ he warned. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Sorry. I know, you're right. But I'm still frustrated! Plus, she was rude to me."

"I'm sure your attitude had _nothing_ to do with that."

She ignored his jab. "You're not going to pursue the case, are you?"

"I have not decided yet. Why? Have you changed your mind about it?"

She crossed her arms again and hesitated. "I… Yes!"

"So you don't think I should take it?"

"Er…No! It might be more trouble than its worth! Like you said, there has been no solid proof of reincarnation that would justify us taking on something so...so _ludicrous._ "

"Mai presented enough of her own evidence that it would not be so foolish as to investigate further, should I so choose."

"But I mean, anyone could have drawn those pictures. She could have told her son who you are before they got in here. Don't you think it's a bit odd how you have not seen one another for eleven years and she all of a sudden comes out of the woodwork because she needs something strange? Who knows, maybe any feelings of sincerity I picked up were feigned." A fulsome smile curled a corner of her lips. "Have you ever considered that she's lying and made all of it up?"

"No, I haven't," Naru replied tersely without hesitation. Ona recoiled a bit, looking visibly affronted. "She's never given me any reason to distrust her."

"Oh yeah? You two seem to know each other really well, then," she seethed. "You must've been _really close_ ," she alleged mockingly. To her surprise, he stiffened and straightened his back completely, despite his unyielding stare.

"What gives you that idea?" he probed, a bit too defensive for his tastes.

 _Because she knew exactly how to handle you. Because she played you like a fiddle,_ she thought resentfully. "Just a feeling."

"Well, your 'feeling' and personal antipathies are hardly reasons to turn down a case," he said brusquely, standing up and fluffing his jacket to straighten its collar. "Honestly, Ona, you're a professional. Act like one."

"What is it with you and critiquing my 'professionalism,' Noll?" Ona grilled, shifting her weight to one side haughtily and tapping the crease of her elbow.

"You let your attitude steer your behavior."

"You're one to talk. Everyone has their character flaws, Oliver," Ona argued. "I do exemplary work for you."

"While both of those statements are true, it does not render my point invalid. I respect you as an individual, my partner, and as my employee. I accept that this is part of your person, but that does not mean I will tolerate this kind of conduct from you in the workplace," he lectured in a cool, reproachful tone. He closed the gap between them and peered down into her blue eyes. She tried to maintain a reproving glare, but after a moment she faltered and flittered her eyes away, feeling incredibly small. "Had she been unceremoniously rude or disrespectful to either of us, it would be different. But, she was neither of those things, presented her case chiefly tactfully, and did not intentionally cause your discomfort. It is regretful that the meeting was strenuous on you and your ability, and it is understandable you are left feeling dispirited; you are not required to personally like every client, but you are required to treat all of them with the same amount of respect."

Ona said nothing in return.

Without expounding any further, Naru stepped away from her and paraded to the door, buttoning his coat along the way. Ona blinked, re-centering her thoughts and trying to process all he'd just said to her.

"Where are you going?" She called after him, following him carefully out into the hallway.

"Out," he responded simply without turning around. "Please inform Lin of my departure."

"Noll?" Ona felt a glint of panic in her chest. " _Where are you going?"_ She repeated insistently, trying to level her tone. She bit her lip, pausing behind him by the seat of her secretarial station. As frustrated as she was, she did not want him to leave feeling like they were on disagreeable terms. Unfortunately, her pride had not worn down enough to relay that to him.

"Out," he reiterated. He made it clear he did not wish to explain further. But she had her guesses.

"What about the rest of your consultations?"

"Call them and reschedule for another date," he responded, opening the office door.

"But what should I—"

He turned his head towards her a bit, his long fingers gripping the side of the door gently. "Apologize for the inconvenience, and tell them a personal matter has arisen that I must attend to," he answered, juddering the door behind him to close as he stepped out into the hall.

"You know it's pouring outside, right?" Ona asserted. "Don't you want an umbrell—"

Before she could finish her question, the door settled into its latch with a halting _click._

* * *

" _Thank you,"_ Mai sniffled as the waiter deposited a tray containing two cup of steaming tea and a small glass of apple juice onto their table. She dabbed her damp cheeks and blew her nose on a napkin self-consciously. _"Th-that will be all."_ The waiter nodded awkwardly and sauntered away. She grabbed a pristine porcelain cup for herself as Yasu grabbed the other and then placed the glass of juice in front of Hisashi, who was coloring on his paper placemat with a small pack of crayons. He was too absorbed in his work to look up.

The rain, which admittedly was not very gentle to begin with, had begun pouring down hard enough that their umbrellas did little to keep any of them dry on their trek home; after the first four failed attempts at hailing a taxi, Mai gave up and accepted their waterlogged fate. However, just a block from their hotel, Yasu spotted a small café that looked delightfully warm. So, they decided to stop and warm up and pray that the rain let up soon.

Mai blew her nose again.

She'd like to say that the remaining wetness on her cheeks was the fault of the rain, but it was not. It was the delightful combination of her dismissal from Naru's office and jetlag.

How embarrassing.

"Are you going to be okay?" Yasu asked, taking a sip of his tea. Mai nodded, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"Y-yeah, I'll be fine," she assured, sniffling harshly. "God, I don't even know why I'm crying. This is stupid of me." Yasu shot her a castigating look with a grin tugging the corner of his lips.

"Really? _You_ don't know why you're crying? Mai, you cry all the time."

"I do not!" she asserted, folding her arms across her chest. He raised an eye at her. "Well, not _nearly_ as much as I used to…" She trailed off and sighed. She took a slow sip of her tea, savoring the warmth on her cold lips.

"You're just tired," Yasu stated. "And stressed. Rightfully so." He took another sip of his tea. "You should really take a nap when we get back to our room." Mai nodded.

"I just feel like this entire trip has been a waste of time. If Naru won't help us, what can I do?"

"Keep in mind he didn't say he _wasn't_ going to help us," he clarified.

"So? He wasn't exactly chomping at the bit when we asked for his assistance…" She wiped a few more tears from the corner of her eyes before they escaped, annoyed with herself.

"Give him a chance, Mai. I mean, how would you feel if you were in his position?"

"Yeah, but…"

"This is Naru we are talking about. Have a little faith, okay?" Mai bit her bottom lip.

"You sound like Bou-san, Yasu."

He chuckled. "But I'm most certainly better looking." Mai rolled her eyes, cracking a smile for the first time since they left the office.

"Now more than ever I want to know just what in the hel—" Mai clamped her mouth shut and glanced at her son, who had finally discovered his apple juice and was guzzling it down gleefully. "What in the _heck_ is going on with my son…" she finished in a loud whisper. "I mean, Naru basically confirmed that even _he_ thinks this has something to do with Gene. But _how?"_

"More importantly, _why?"_ Yasu added.

The two of them sighed in unison.

"Ever since SPR shut down I've wanted to get back into the ghost hunting business, but… Not like this," Mai jested with a bitter chuckle, glancing out the window to her right to watch the rain. Thankfully it had slowed enough that they could finally see across the street again. "I guess it was too much to hope for both a normal life _and_ a ghost-hunting gig."

"Really, Mai, you should know better by now!" He teased, pushing has glasses up his nose arrogantly.

"Gee, thanks, Yasu," Mai chided good-naturedly.

"Oh please, you just hate that I'm right." She huffed indignantly. "And you hate that I'm right about being right." He leaned forward and folded his hands, resting his arms on the table.

Mai slapped her palm to her forehead. "Alright, alright, I give up. You got me." She waved her other hand at him dismissively. "Sheesh…" Yasu laughed boisterously.

After his laughter petered out, he took a deep breath and hooked her gaze with a firm yet tender expression. "Listen, Mai…" He unclasped his hands and reached out towards her. She took a hand gently. "Even if Naru does not pull through for us—which I don't think will happen, for the record—I'm not going to give up on you or Hisashi. We might not be as knowledgeable or gifted as Naru, but that doesn't mean we should give up. I refuse! Homework comrades for life, right?" Her chest flushed with a warm gratitude and together they shared a small, nostalgic laugh.

"Thank you, Yasu," Mai responded, squeezing his hand tightly before letting go. "I don't know what we would do without you."

"Flounder, probably," he retorted playfully, winking.

She didn't know what else she was expecting.

"Anyways, we should get back to the hotel room while the rain isn't so torrential. That way you can get some shuteye," Yasu suggested.

As if on cue, Mai yawned in response: "Yeahthasproblyforthebest…" She coughed to clear her throat of her sluggishness and turned to Hisashi. "Sweetie, finish your juice. We are going to leave soon so we can take a nap, okay?" He glanced up at her with his wide, innocuous green eyes.

"Okay, mommy. Can I take this with me to finish later, pleeeeeease?" He gripped onto his masterpiece for emphasis. "It's not done!"

"Sure sweetie, mommy will put it in her purse." She pushed back from the table and stood up, shivering as her spine crackled at the sudden movement. She turned her attention to Yasu. "I'm going to take care of the bill. Will you get him ready to go?"

"Sure thing, boss," Yasu nodded.

"Thanks," she nodded back. She began shuffling through her small purse for her wallet. "Hisashi, hand me your drawing please. Clean up your crayons and give them to Uncle Yasu. Show him how fast you can put your crayons in the box!"

"Okay!" he replied eagerly. He held up the placemat with his drawing and she took it absentmindedly, finally finding her wallet. She stuffed it under her armpit and went to fold the drawing in half so it would fit in her purse without wrinkling, but not before getting a good look at its subjects. She stared at it in shock for several seconds, mouth agape. She blinked, bringing her back to her senses. "Oh for the love of God…" she shook her head and brusquely stuffed the drawing—two stick figures (one black and one pink) standing on top of a building surrounded by dozens of little blue flames—into her purse before marching to the cash register.

* * *

Despite all the peculiar and perhaps pitying looks from umbrella-covered strangers on the streets, Oliver continued to walk resolutely down the sodden sidewalk. The force of the rain had increased significantly since he left his office, so at that point it did not matter to him one way or the other; he would've been drenched with or without a form of cover. His coat and trousers soaked through to his skin, and he felt the unpleasant sensation of squishing, waterlogged socks in his dress shoes. His normally feathery black hair flattened and stuck untidily to his forehead. Still, mind blazing, he persevered, keeping his head tilted just slightly forward to let the water run off his nose instead of into his eyes.

He had no destination in mind, but hoped that his excursion would help him sort out his thoughts. Being trapped in an office with a bellowing, angry presence was certainly less ideal than traversing through a flood.

But even then, after essentially swimming several blocks, he simply could not make any more sense of the situation. He had encountered a number of unusual phenomena in his life—both explained and unexplained—but for some reason, this had him at a loss. What was he supposed to do?

There was no experience from which to draw.

There was no concrete, indisputable evidence.

He was certain the spirit of his brother had long passed on.

Logically, he should dismiss the case and not give it another thought.

But…

Lack of experience, as Mai had so-graciously pointed out, was not a reason to turn down a case. Poor practice.

Although the evidence was not indisputable, it was intriguing and much more abundant than he originally anticipated.

And though he assumed Gene's spirit was all but gone, he was no medium; no one can say for certain what lies beyond except for those in the beyond itself.

So, logically, he should consider the case.

But…

He shook his head, water flailing from his face and hair. He wiped some droplets clinging to his eyelashes with his wet sleeve, but it was for naught. He deposited more water than he'd brushed away.

The internal conflict continued.

The source of their 'evidence' was a child, and children are known for their inventive imaginations. Perhaps Mai _had_ spoken about her experiences in his presence and simply did not remember, and he is just echoing what he heard.

But wouldn't it be highly likely that the child would be too young to understand such complex conversation? He would do well to remember that not all children were as bright as he was at that age…

How long would such a case endure? Months, years, maybe! That would be a considerable expenditure of time and capital. Moreover, the efforts might be in vain!

Nevertheless… If he _was_ successful… It would be one of the greatest findings of his career. Think of all the invaluable data: _a newfound understanding of life and death…_ What if dismissing Mai would be wasting a tremendous opportunity?

But even if it was an opportunity of a lifetime, what if he did not accept for deeply personal reasons? Was that even a valid perspective to consider? The idea felt uncharacteristic of him, but he could not shake a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach… Because, what if it truly _was_ Gene? Or some variant of him? Some strange, unexplainable, unrecognizable form…? He was his deceased brother, after all. He was never openly emotional about his death, but it affected him deeply nonetheless and he did not enjoy thinking about it. Their relationship while he was alive was unconventional at best, but they shared a connection he could not replicate with anyone. Despite their arguments, misunderstandings, and extreme differences in ability and personality, Gene was a palliative constant in his life and, as much as he hated to admit it, Gene understood him. And Gene helped him understand himself—and everyone else, for that matter. Oliver was well aware of the fact that his social graces were always less than stellar, but Gene always made things easier to handle. Mostly by taking on social situations so Oliver did not have to _handle_ them at all, but still. Gene's death ripped the rug out from under him and left him to figure everything out on his own. Even to that day, though he had grown significantly, he recognized that he still had his issues.

Perhaps it was not in the way everyone wanted or expected, but Oliver grieved the loss and was not especially keen on revisiting those queer feelings.

It had taken him long enough to get used to a life without Gene. How was he supposed to get used to having Gene—even if it was not _truly_ Gene—around again after more than a decade?

Oliver paused in the middle of the sidewalk and glanced upward towards the dark, angry sky. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Perhaps it was all a lie. A sham. Maybe he'd imagined the echo of the familiar probing at the corner of his consciousness…

But he'd established this earlier.

It was Mai, and he trusted her.

But he hadn't seen her for eleven years…

But it was Mai, and he trusted her.

But he hadn't exactly handled their…their _association_ well the first time around…

But it was Mai, and he trusted her.

Accepting the case, he knew, would come with numerous ramifications even _he_ had not thought of yet…

But it was Mai.

Perhaps after all was said and done, it would not be worth it.

 _But it was Mai._

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes briefly and groaned. He ran his fingers through his knotted, wet hair and shoved them into his coat pockets where they brushed against a damp slip of paper.

He groaned again.

It seemed the decision had been made.

* * *

The address on the hotel matched that of the slowly bleeding ink in his hands. He inhaled slowly and stepped through the revolving entrance. A few paces in, he paused and looked around the lobby. It was nearly empty at this time of day and was quiet save for the faint sound of classical music over the intercom and the steady streams of water dripping from his clothes to the floor. He caught the prying eyes of a bellboy and stared at him hard until the boy looked away quickly and scurried into an elevator, embarrassed.

He was about to approach the front desk to inquire about the inhabitants of room 318B when the revolving doors behind him spun and a familiar voice called his name.

" _Na—Oliver?"_ he heard Mai cried in surprise. He turned toward the origin of the sound. He was met with the bewildered faces of Yasu and Mai, whose mouths were both uncannily hanging open, and the young Hisashi clinging to Mai's left hand. The little boy hid behind his mother bashfully. "You're…What are you doing _here_? _"_

And like many times in the past, he ignored her completely. "I accept."

She blinked. "You…accept…?"

He simple nodded in response.

And like many times in the past, Mai burst into tears.


	10. Endless Sputtering and Explosions

_A/N: HIYA FOLKS! Miss me?!  
_

 _Look! I'm not dead! I have an update for you! Perhaps it is not the most action-packed update, but you can't rush a story, even when you go on an unexpected hiatus. I believe you will at the very least be entertained by the interactions between the characters and perhaps a bit shocked at the goings-ons! I had a great time writing this (as I sit here at work with absolutely nothing to do).  
_

 _I do apologize for the four-month absence, but thank you so much for sticking with me. It means so much to me! All of your continuous feedback is greatly appreciated. So now you're probably wondering why I pretty much dropped off the face of the planet. Well have I got some news for you! First of all, I finished my first semester of grad school and am on a break! It was tough and took some adjustments (as well as all my writing time-four 30-page papers anyone?), but I did extremely well and love what I'm learning. And now, more exciting news... I got engaged! My boyfriend proposed to me on our 4th anniversary in September. So, when I haven't been at school, I've been planning my wedding (which is going to be in May!). As you can imagine it's been one hell of a ride! It has been amazing, though. Despite all the craziness, just know that I have not forgotten you or this story! I even have some other ideas floating around in my head and may or may not have two one-shots in the works... ;)  
_

 _I hope you like this chapter and what it brings to the table. It really sets up for some cool stuff coming up. Please R &R because I love to hear from you, and as always, enjoy._

* * *

 **Chapter Nine:**

 **Endless Sputtering and Explosions  
**

It was with a heavy, bittersweet ache in her heart that Mai packed away the precious clutter on her work desk into a large cardboard box. Most people would not describe _clutter_ as _precious_ , but she could think of no better word for it: A stack of stationary of different colors and sizes she'd arranged into a rainbow, a framed photo with grainy, horrific quality of her and the other SPR members before Naru's original departure, her desk telephone that had accumulated an assortment of colorful stickers from her son's frequent visits to work over the years, and a collection of miscellaneous pens that she could not remember from whence they came (her favorite being a gaudy light blue and yellow pen with purple ink from a take-out restaurant at which she was sure she had never eaten), to name a few. For the last 10 years, this vast hodgepodge of objects had obscured her secretary's station at Fostermeyer's Bilingual Counseling and Psychiatry Clinic (affectionately known as BCPC), the very same center Yasu had helped her find shortly after her graduation from university.

After her very first day, she had all but fallen in love with the clinic. Though she never intended on assuming another secretary position to serve as her long-term career, she did not mind because in a lot of ways, it reminded her of her secretary days at SPR—facilitating others to seek and find help, offering consolation to those who needed it the most, serving those who felt as though they had nowhere else to turn, often times helping guide others in healthy coping mechanisms after a tragedy… The work had meaning, and she was employing her psychology and English studies to boot. There was nothing more for which she could have asked. Except, of course, for a kind, compassionate boss that developed into a great friend somewhere along the way, which she easily found through the likes of Nadine. Nadine Fostermeyer, a tall, brown-haired, middle-aged American woman who spoke exquisite English and Japanese, did not hesitate on taking Mai in during her time of need and continuously provided her with a livable wage, benefits, and flexibility to raise her son as a single mother.

Oh how she would miss this place.

"Are you sure there is nothing I can do to make you stay, Mai?" Nadine inquired with a wan smile, seating herself on the edge of the desk and almost wistfully watching her arrange her belongings in the box.

Mai felt her heart sink in her chest, leaden with ennui. She plastered a small smile on her lips. "I'd really love nothing more. You know that." Nadine nodded.

"I know. It was worth a shot to ask," Nadine shrugged. "Again," she added with a wink. Mai laughed softly.

"I'll come back and visit as often as I can!" Mai promised.

"You'd better!" Nadine replied, tossing her curly, bouncy brown locks behind her shoulders. "I want to keep up to date on Hisashi's well-being."

"Mmm," Mai nodded, resuming her packing. She wanted to avoid that subject if she could. Although Nadine was a very thoughtful and understanding woman, it would have been very difficult to explain Hisashi's… _extenuating circumstances,_ without sounding like a loon. She gave her a very bare-bones explanation, but Nadine seemed to understand there something deeper at stake and did not press any further.

Maybe she'd explain it in full one day.

"Are you sure there is _nothing_ I can do for you?"

Mai nodded again. "You've been great, Nadine. You've already done so much."

Nadine smirked, pushing her thick-rimmed glasses up her nose. "Then I am assuming this Dr. Davis will be taking good care of you, then?"

"Oh! Um, yes!" Mai sputtered, proud of herself for not blushing like a stupid school-girl for a change. An old, familiar niggle of excitement bubbled in her stomach. "I've worked for him before, y'know, part-time when we were much younger." Mai stood up straight and wiped the sweat beading at her brow. Who knew packing would work up such a sweat? "So I imagine working for him full-time will be great. I've always, _always_ wanted to continue work alongside Dr. Davis because of his expertise in his line of work," she explained, flopping into her cushioned desk chair. "Maybe now that I'm a fellow researcher instead of a secretary I won't have to make him his stupid tea every day!"

Mai smiled to herself as she reflected back.

It still felt a bit surreal. It had all happened in such a whirlwind.

* * *

About a month earlier, just days after her return from England, Mai submitted in writing her intention to resign from her secretary position at BCPC. It had taken both her and Nadine by surprise, but Mai knew it was necessary.

If she was going to help her son, it had to be done.

Back in England, after she managed to settle down from Naru's waterlogged assurance that he would take Hisashi's case (and after a much-needed good night's rest), she, Yasu, and Naru spent hours at the small table in their hotel room hashing out the details for the basis of their agreement. The work space was crowded and certainly not ideal, but that meant that there was no room for any extra bodies so Naru came _alone._

Without his darling secretary.

So therefore it was the most comfortable work space on the whole damn planet, according to Mai. She was still sour from their rancorous exchange.

Awkward and tumultuous meeting aside, Naru came their meeting prepared for all business. Mai really had not expected anything less, but she did forget just how thorough he was when taking on cases.

"I've taken the liberty of drafting a contract to make our business with one another official," Naru said as he— _get this!—_ fixed himself a crappy cup of hotel tea at the tiny coffee pot provided.

"Contract?" Mai questioned, eyeing the manila folder sitting on the table marked _Taniyama, Hisashi, case #001763._

"Yes, contract," he reiterated, carefully taking a seat at the table. He blew gently on his steaming plastic cup. "I anticipate that I will likely not be taking on many additional cases while I work with you and your son, which I may remind you accounts for a great portion of how I earn my living." Mai blinked. "It's basically a formality stating that you agree not to waste my time and that some form of imbursement will still occur should you retract your service for any reason," he sighed.

"Oh," Mai breathed. She glanced at Yasu for a moment, bouncing her gaze back and forth between the two men. "Should I be offended?"

"Not at all!" Yasu assured. "It's a pretty standard procedure," he explained, adjusting his glasses. "I assume it's a precaution he takes with all of his clients, yes?"

"More or less," Naru confirmed. "But as I'm sure you understand there is a high probability this case will prove to be very far from standard. I must account for this and adapt the contract accordingly." Mai inclined her head in understanding. "Good, shall we go over the contract in detail, then?"

Yasu gestured towards him with his hands. "By all means," he granted, pulling over the complimentary hotel pen and stationary to take his own notes.

The bulk of the contract was pretty standard. Blah blah sign here, blah blah privacy, blah-de-blah abide by my rules and bow before my greatness… Blah blah. However, his proposition to execute the case far exceeded her expectations and shocked her to say the least.

"My tentative plan is to open a small branch office in Japan out of which to conduct my business and research," he stated. "I think—"

"Wait wait wait, _what?"_ Mai gawked, obviously taken aback. "You… _what?"_

"As I was saying," he emphasized indignantly ( _So Naru-like,_ she thought), "I believe it will be the easiest course of action. I am tied down only by my work and can conduct it essentially anywhere I choose. You, however, have strong ties to Japan, as does your son. It would be significantly less tumultuous for me to temporarily move my business headquarters than for you to uproot your whole life."

Mai continued to gape. After a few moments, she shook her head to ground herself. "Wow, Na— _Oliver_ , that's… so… _thoughtful,_ " she remarked, still processing the news. The smallest of smirks pulled at his lips.

"It's also unwise to take Hisashi out of the environment in which he grew up and fostered his behaviors. We don't want to change too many of his stimuli. This could easily manipulate my results."

"Noted," Mai retorted. Of course Naru couldn't be _entirely_ selfless. But, at least this was excusable!

Yasu looked up from his writing. "So when would all of this be happening?"

"Ideally I'd like to finish up the cases I have scheduled for the remainder of the month to avoid as many cancellations as possible. It's easier just to refuse cases than to cancel commitments I have already made."

"Fair point," Yasu agreed. "So by the end of next month then, perhaps?"

"Give or take. I can confirm this with you later on…"

The two men continued to converse, but Mai slowed phased out their voices in lieu of an overwhelming feeling she could not identify. Relief? Eagerness? Anxiety?

Whatever. She really ought to pay attention…

She reasoned that Yasu was taking diligent enough notes that she did not feel _too_ badly for letting her mind wander. She simply could not get over the fact that she might finally, _finally_ be on her way to getting the answers for which she has been searching for years. With Naru no less.

"Mai?" Naru interrupted her thoughts. She jumped, feeling her face flame a bright red.

"U-uh, yeah. All sounds great."

Naru sighed. "Were you even listening to me?"

"Of course I was listening!" Mai huffed indignantly, despite the fact that she could not even attempt to guess the content of the last five minutes of their conversation. It was much too soon for him to start chastising her for her obnoxious behavior!

All the same, the familiarity of this situation lit a fire in her core, akin to the feeling she got as a child the night before her birthday.

How on Earth she managed to feel so many emotions at once without exploding was beyond her.

"Right," he chided sarcastically. "At any rate, I urge you listen to what I have to say next. I want you to consider it seriously."

Did he sound…excited? No, it would be so un-Naru-like to show that kind of emotion. Or any emotion at all, really.

But still…

"Okay then, shoot," Mai urged, leaning both elbows on the table and supporting her chin on her fists.

"Since I will be moving my operations to Japan, I will not have access to my normal personnel, bar Lin and Ona." Mai cringed at the witch's name. "And since you have experience working with me and the paranormal, and because Hisashi is your son and you know him best, I have a proposition for you."

Mai raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"I would like to offer you a research position in my office."

Mai nearly choked on her own breath. "WHAT?" She meant to only think that part, but oh well.

"I would like to rehire you and have you work with me."

A bewildered silence fell between the three. Yasu tried—and failed—to stifle some laughter at Mai's flabbergasted face, though he too was taken aback by the proposition. She shot him a brief glare.

"But—! But—! But I…!" Mai sputtered, trying to form a coherent sentence. "Uh. But I already have a paying job. I've been there for 10 years! I can afford to just up and leave—"

"I _am_ paying you, you realize?"

"Well yeah, but my job already pays decently and I love it there—"

"Then I will pay double." Mai wheezed. "With benefits. It is a researcher job, after all. Not a secretary position."

"Well _fuck me sideways…_ " Yasu whispered under his breath.

No matter how hard Mai tried to shut her gaping mouth, she couldn't.

"Do you accept?"

How could she _not_ accept?! She had dreamt for years about getting the SPR gang back together again and pursuing the paranormal! Even if it wouldn't be the whole gang, it was still something! Though this was a dream she'd all but abandoned years ago, the prospect of it still coming to fruition still thrilled her. And _double the money!_ Just think of the life she could afford to give Hisashi...

Despite the rager going on inside her brain, she managed a simple, audible "yes."

Naru smirked. "Good." He stuck out a hand for her to shake. Mindlessly, she grabbed onto his cool, smooth hand with her sweat-covered palm, uncaring of his slight recoil at the sudden dampness. "Then it's settled."

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur for her (which of course forced Yasu to go over his notes with her several times over to make sure she had a firm grasp on the situation), and as quickly as he came, he departed with a deafening _clickshshsh_ of the self-locking hotel door handle.

She begged the universe again to remind her how she did not explode.

* * *

New job.

Naru.

 _Answers._

 _Answers!_

"Can I help you carry out your last few boxes?" Nadine asked, waggling Mai from her stupor.

"Oh, um." She looked around for a moment before replying. "Yes, that would be great," she returned, smiling at her friend as she taped the last box shut.

"Might as well buy you lunch while we're at it." Nadine winked, sidling past her with a large box in her arms.

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" Mai cried, chasing after her clumsily with two boxes stacked in her arms.

"Hey, I'm still your boss until the end of the day. It wasn't a suggestion!" She winked again. Mai smiled gratefully, setting the boxes down by the trunk of the car she'd borrowed from Ayako to transport her things. She fumbled with the keys to pop it open.

"Thanks, Nadine. For everything."

"Of course, Mai. It has been a pleasure working with you." She gently nestled the boxes in the trunk. "And if that Dr. Davis doesn't treat your right you always have a place here!"

Mai laughed. "Thanks! I think I will be okay, though."

All at once and seemingly out of nowhere things were changing, but then again...she never expected to break an insured camera and work her ass off for a famous psychic parapsychologist to pay off a debt that didn't exist while _also_ making some of the best friends she has ever had.

It seems he had a record for entering into her life unexpectedly and completely shifting her paradigm.

* * *

 _Second A/N:_ _Don't forget to vote in my poll on my profile about whether or not you'd like to see me publish something original! I would love to get published one day for something of my own creation. Maybe even leave a few ideas here and there, offer some encouragement... I might give you a special shout out! ;) Your feedback means a lot to me and offers me so much encouragement to keep going.  
_


	11. 001736, Experiment 01

_A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you had a wonderful holiday! As promised, here is another installment of TIOC! Perks to still having a winter break: I have oodles of down time at work and actually have time and energy to write. I'm making every attempt to get as many chapters out before classes start up again.  
_

 _I had so much fun with this chapter. It's probably one of my favorites. It was a blast to write. I love writing with Naru's perspective in mind; he's truly an enthralling character. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much I enjoyed writing it, and I hope this satisfies a lot of your curiosities. I also hope it raises more questions. ;)_

 _Please R &R! I love hearing from all of you. It keeps me going. Also, if you haven't already, take a gander at the poll on my profile if you are interested in reading an original full-length novel by me! As always, enjoy. _

* * *

**Chapter Ten:**

 **#001736, Experiment #01**

Oliver blew gently on the steaming cup of tea nestled in his hands, its warmth a welcome change from the stinging cold lingering from the brisk outside air. He closed his eyes and inhaled the familiar bergamot scent in an attempt to quell the unrest he felt aerating in the pit of his stomach.

It was unsuccessful, as it had mildly been for the last eleven years.

Though that day in particular, it was perhaps a touch more ineffective than usual, he noted.

As he continued to inhale the citrusy aroma, he was able to attribute its failure to two possible culprits. Two very distinct and very _loud_ culprits.

The first, he thought, might have arisen on account of Mai's both foreign and familiar presence in his place of work. Back when he operated the original SPR branch in Japan, Mai frequented his office with cup after cup of his favorite tea, Earl Grey. So much, in fact, that he unconsciously began associating the citrusy scent with her person. He thought nothing of it throughout his stationing in Shibuya, as he was more preoccupied with recovering Gene's body.

He labored hard to ignore the strange connection they developed and how… _uncomfortable_ it made him feel.

It was no secret that his social graces fell short of mediocre when he was a youth, but he was able to recognize in the end that he had found a friend in Mai and all their other colleagues. However, the idea of having so many new friends all at once was confusing and new, but not wholly uncomfortable at its core. No, the discomfort Mai triggered in him was not a result of their friendship, but rather at a unique feeling she aroused that no one else—not even his parents, Lin, Madoka, or even Gene—could. He could not explain why, but his connection to her felt… _stronger._ More…intimate? He supposed, for lack of a better term. He could not make hide nor hare of the feeling, and any explanation he could come up with at the time simply did not make sense. He did not know how to manage it and saw no benefit from talking about it, so he smothered it deeply beneath his work. It appeared to be for naught, however, because just before he returned home, she professed the feelings she had for him and it made his own feelings _make sense._ So he panicked and tried to create some distance—both from her and his feelings.

He had not noticed the association between Mai and Earl Grey until he returned home to London and caught himself reminiscing almost every time he inhaled its scent. It was simultaneously comforting and unnerving, and the paradox in and of itself was enough to drive him mad. He began to explore other flavors of tea to spare himself the trouble, but never eliminated Earl Grey from his diet completely because with or without Mai, it was still his favorite.

But surely after all these years that could not _possibly_ still be bothering him! No, absolutely not, he avowed. How ludicrous. It had to merely be his association with _discomfort_ that made the tea unsettle him. Or even more probable, it was the fact that Mai was in hat very office with him, which meant her son and the potential re-embodiment of his dead brother sat in an adjoining room, waiting for him.

Yes, that was it.

Oliver shook his head and took a long sip, focusing on the slight burning sensation in his throat from the still too-hot tea.

He liked to think that the second culprit was more to blame than the former.

Ever since he informed her of his business plans and they made the physical relocation to Tokyo, Ona, who had moments ago delivered the tea in question to his desk, had essentially been giving him the silent treatment. A puzzling and ironically very loud silent treatment. She spoke as few words to him as possible, but seemed to make an effort to make sure Oliver had not forgotten she was there and was still fuming. He replayed the scene that unfolded moments ago, feeling almost amused. She used her foot to push open his door like she often does, but the kickback was enough to bang it off the office wall. He assumed from her own startled expression that she had not intended her entrance to be so forceful, but rather more dramatic than anything. Ignoring the clamor, she said nothing to him as she set in front of him a small tray with his tea and a petite plate of biscuits; but her penetrating blue eyes never left his. She kissed him gently on the cheek, turned on her sleek black heels, and slammed the door as she exited.

She'd come around soon, he hoped. They had at least come a long way from the bitter argument they shared the day he broke the news.

" _I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly," Ona warned, eyeing Oliver from the floor to his eyes. "You plan on doing_ what?"

" _I am making arrangements to open a branch office of BSPR in Japan to undertake the case," he repeated, making sure to enunciate each syllable._

" _So I did hear you correctly, then," Ona deadpanned._

" _It does appear that way."_

" _And it never occurred to you to run this by me first?" Her voice was thick with upset._

" _It is my executive decision, as I am the head of the office."_

" _But this doesn't affect just you!" she cried. He blinked, calculating the possibility that he had indeed made a mistake. "Noll, we are just going to uproot our life here? Leave our families behind?!"_

" _It is not a permanent arrangement, Ona," he explained. She considered his statement, shifting her weight from one foot to another._

" _Then how long will we be there?" She bit her lip._

" _There is no way to be sure as of right now. It could be weeks, months, years—"_

" _YEARS?! Noll!" She scolded._

" _Ona?" he egged._

" _THIS IS A BIG DEAL! What in the hell possessed you to all of a sudden think, 'hmmm, deracinating my whole life and risking my entire career for some long-lost girl based on the slim chance that a child is my deceased brother' was a good idea?!" She scuffed her foot on the ground in emphasis. Oliver narrowed his eyes._

" _I have weighed the pros and cons," he insisted._

" _Oh have you now," Ona retorted, voice laced with sarcasm._

" _I have," he returned, rolling his eyes. "As my secretary—"_

" _Oliver Davis, I am_ not _just your secretary right now. I am your girlfriend."_

" _Ona, you know we have to maintain boundaries between our professional and personal lives—"_

" _That rule ends when our work life threatens the very foundations of our personal life."_

 _He had not considered that angle. Perhaps she had a point._

" _If it is your personal life you worry about, you can stay behind at the London office," he offered. She gasped, clearly reading further into what he said than he had intended._

" _Do you not…want me to go with you…?" Expression unchanging, Oliver took a moment to contemplate her question. He didn't_ not _want her to go. Is that the same concept? Before he could respond, she continued in an eerily calm voice. "Wow." Perhaps he had taken too much time to think. "Wow, okay then. You know what? Get stuffed, Oliver. Have fun with her," she seethed. She gathered her red peacoat from the kitchen table and made her way towards the front door._

" _Ona, wait," Oliver called after her, taking several steps towards her. She stopped and turned to meet his gaze, her face flushed from anger and her eyes glossing over as if she were about to cry. "Why are you leaving? This is your apartment."_

 _She blinked, then threw her hands above her head in frustration with an exasperated yell. "Is that it then?"_

" _Ona, please."_

" _Oh please_ what, _Noll?"_

 _This time he did not pause before answering. "I do want you to accompany me to Japan. I think you are a valuable asset and I do not want you to think that I do not appreciate you. Will you at least consider it?" The fuming blonde eyed him once again._

" _Fine. But please, leave. I need to be alone right now." Oliver nodded, grabbing his own black coat from the table. "Oliver," she called after him, stopping him at the front door frame. "I… I'll see you tomorrow at work, then."_

After taking time to think about the opportunity, she accepted his invitation, and despite giving him the silent treatment, she had helped him prepare for the move when he needed her. In many ways, the silence between them made the process even easier, so it wasn't a total loss. He figured their equilibrium would return after they had fully settled into their new space, so reconciliation was nigh.

He took another sip of his tea and glanced at the golden clock hanging on the wall in front of his desk. 10:59. He had best be going. He stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of his long-sleeved, black dress shirt and re-tucked it in at the waist. No use in being late for an appointment for the first time in his career.

Even if the client was a child.

* * *

With as much pride as he could muster, Oliver carefully settled himself into one of two child-sized chairs at a child-sized table. He was so low to the ground that with his feet planted firmly on the floor, his knees reached the height of his upper abdomen. If he tried to cross his legs, the chair would surely buckle or he would tip over backwards, so with gritted teeth he pressed his knees together and settled his clipboard onto his legs. When Mai designated this room to house the majority of their research directly related to Hisashi, he had insisted she include an adult-sized desk chair—perhaps something with a cushion that fit more than just half of his bottom—but she was adamant that Oliver needed to be "on the same level as him" and "not an intimidating, scary-looking doctor-scientist guy who asked a lot of weird and confusing questions." Her words exactly. Ona had actually supported Mai's reasoning, citing something or another about making Hisashi feel comfortable and like he was talking to a friend and not being subjected to an interrogation. He could think of no counter argument other than his back might go into spasms considering the disproportional height between him and the chair, and that was hardly an argument at all in the face of research. So there he was, sitting uncomfortably in a room that was painted and decorated in a garish way that reminded him of a daycare.

Oliver sighed quietly and eyed the only other inhabitant of the room: Hisashi, who was sitting on the other side of the table surrounded by crayons, paper, animal crackers, and two apple juice boxes. He was scribbling nonsensically, which was what Oliver had hoped for; the child, he reasoned, would perform better if he had a distraction to lessen the pressure and create a more casual atmosphere. On his clipboard he attached a sheet with a series of questions he wanted to ask to establish a foundation for future, more in-depth interview sessions, but he also made sure to include several blank sheets of notebook paper in case something else was to arise.

At the top of the questionnaire, he wrote _'Case #001736, Experiment #01,_ reached into his breast pocket to retrieve an audio recorder, took a deep breath, and hit record.

"Good morning," Oliver began, tearing the boy's attention away from his drawing for the first time. Hisashi grinned widely.

"Hi!" He answered. He dropped the crayon he had been holding to take a sip from his juice box.

"What is your name?"

"Taniyama Hisashi!" He giggled, fidgeting in his seat a bit.

Oliver clicked the end of his pen to prepare to write. "And do you know who I am?"

Hisashi thought for a moment. "Yeah!" Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"Do you remember my name?"

"Yeah!" Hisashi giggled.

"What is my name?"

"I dunno," Hisashi shrugged, grabbing a red crayon and returning to his drawing. Oliver stared at him blankly, trying to smother a flicker of annoyance smoldering in his chest.

"So you do not know who I am?"

"Uh-uh, I _do_ know you!"

"Then what is my name?" Oliver repeated.

Hisashi's boyish face contorted in deliberation. Again, he shrugged. "I dunno." Oliver sighed heavily.

"My name is Oliver Davis." Hisashi again returned to his drawing, switching to a black crayon.

"I knew that," he replied, sticking out his tongue in concentration.

"Right, of course you did." He pinched the bridge of his nose. If this was any indication of how the rest of this case was going to unfold, he thought, then he had to hope to whatever divinity that this would all be worth it in the end. "Hisashi, do you—"

"Would you like a juice box?!" the boy interrupted, a look of pure innocence plastered on his face.

Oliver blinked. "No, thank you. Do you—"

"Are you sure? Juice is really yummy and I have two," he insisted, holding up the unopened juice box. "I share a lot."

"Again, no thank you Hisa—" He stopped himself that time when Hisashi's face lit up in understanding.

"Do you not know how to poke the straw through? Here, I'll do it!" He giggled, unwrapping the straw and poking through the foil hole. Oliver felt the annoyance in his chest intensifying. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "Here you go," Hisashi finished, holding the box out to Oliver proudly. Oliver opened his eyes and took the box, carefully measuring his breath.

"Thank you," he supplied, setting it down in front of him. "Hisashi, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope," he answered finally without interrupting. Oliver's shoulders dropped in disappointment. This was not productive—"But I did Before," the boy amended. The scientist perked up again. Perhaps it was still too early to make any judgments. He began jotting notes down as the boy intently colored.

"' _Before'_?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Hisashi confirmed.

"What do you mean by 'Before'?" He sat forward a bit, waiting for an answer.

"Idunnowhatchumean," Hisashi mumbled as he stuffed his mouth full of animal crackers. Oliver cringed.

He would do well to remember he was dealing with a child. He needed to approach the questioning differently.

"You mentioned you had brothers or sisters Before," he reiterated. The boy nodded without looking up. "But you do not have them now." Again, the boy nodded. "Do you remember anything about your brothers or sisters from Before?" Hisashi ceased his coloring again to think, but still did not look up.

"I do sometimes," he responded.

"Only sometimes?"

"Yeah," he nodded, gently clenching and unclenching his tiny fingers. "I remember but sometimes I don't remember. It's too hard."

"Why is it hard?"

Silence fell between the two of them. Hisashi stared down at his drawing. Oliver tapped his foot impatiently.

Several minutes passed without an answer. The annoyance moved from his chest to his throat, sitting like a rock.

Finally, the boy spoke. "It's empty." Oliver raised an eyebrow again.

"Empty?"

"Yeah. It…" His face lit up once again. "Oh! Lemme show you!" He grabbed a blank sheet of paper and a blue crayon, clearly proud of his brilliant idea. "It's like this, okay?" He drew a crude stick figure. "That's me." He added hair and drew what Oliver assumed to be giant muscles on his arms. Hisashi giggled. Oliver rolled his eyes internally, wishing he would get on with it. With a purple crayon he drew a large, oblong circle above his head. "That's thinking."

" _Your_ thinking?" Oliver clarified.

He nodded. "Yeah. In my head." _His mind,_ Oliver deduced. The child picked up a yellow crayon and harshly scribbled a large blob on the opposite side of the paper with an orange circle above it, identical to the purple one. "That's me," Hisashi explained before drawing a long red line down the middle of the paper.

"So this is you," Oliver indicated to the blue stick figure, "And this is also you?" he asked, moving his finger to the yellow blob. It reminded him of the yellow blob in the drawing documented in the photo Mai showed him. The one etched on her wall.

"Yeah, that's me. But this is me now," he said, pointing to the blue muscled man. "That was me Before," he added, pointing to the yellow splotch. "Get it?" Oliver took his first sip of his apple juice, wishing momentarily that it was a nice, hard liquor. The explanation was so disjointed that Oliver knew he would have to decipher it several times later. The thought aggravated him. How could he be stumped by a child? He was Dr. Oliver Davis, with two PhD's for heaven's sake.

Hisashi went to reach for the green crayon, but at the last second opted for the pink. Between the representations of the two characters 'minds,' he draw another oblong circle, outlining it several times for emphasis and making sure it intercepted the two original circles.

"This is what I think. What both I's think," he clarified. "I _share_ ," he explained, indicating to the white space in the pink circle. He then pointed to where the pink circle interlinked with the purple. "This is what I remember. But I don't always remember because this," he pointed at the pink circle alone, "is empty sometimes."

Well at least he finally explained what "it's empty" means. Even if it was the most convoluted answered he could have asked for. He would have to have the child elucidate further on his yellow-blob self in another session. He was sure that would be too much in this session—if not for Hisashi, for him.

This case was bizarre and like nothing he had ever researched before.

Oliver glanced at a clock on the wall. Nearly an hour had passed and he needed to move on to his next engagement soon, and he had barely even scraped the surface. He still had several blank questions. He clenched his teeth, resigning to getting one final answer to a question he asked earlier.

"Before I go Hisashi, can I ask you one more question?" He nodded. "Do you remember anything about your brothers and sisters from Before?" The boy took a final sip from his juice and crushed the box in his hands with a dinosaur noise. He giggled to himself.

"Sometimes."

For the love of god. He formed an even more direct question.

"Did you have brothers _or_ sisters?" His voice had more edge to it than he intended.

"Brother," he answered quickly, detecting the annoyance in the scientist's voice. "One"

Finally.

He wrote _'one brother'_ on his sheet and circled it many times.

"Did you have a brother mister? I think you had a brother." Oliver felt his heart skip a beat. He had not anticipated that.

"I did have a brother."

And with that, the dam burst and the boy began firing off a tirade of questions. In one breath, he began: "Where is he now? Did he like juice, too? Did he look like you? What was his favorite color? What was his favorite food? Did he like cars? Where is he—"

" _He's dead,"_ Oliver interrupted harshly, wishing to put an end to the overwhelming outburst. The boy stopped talking all at once. Oliver observed his face. Red cheeks, quivering lip, glassy eyes…

 _Oh no._

Hisashi began to cry. Loudly.

Oliver widened his eyes and grabbed the voice recorder, fumbling it in his hands to turn it off as quickly as he could. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. What was he supposed to do? He did not mean to make him cry! How was he supposed to know that would upset him? He rarely ever worked with children! Especially _alone!_

"Uh," Oliver stuttered. He grimaced at his impropriety. He was intelligent; he could figure this out. He pushed himself off the chair and kneeled down beside the wailing boy, hesitantly patting him on the shoulder. "There, there?" he tried. No effect. He continued to cry. Oliver pursed his lips.

He would not allow himself to panic.

He placed his hand gently on Hisashi's back, rubbing it awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to—" To his surprise, the boy grabbed tiny fistfuls of his shirt and clung to him, now crying into his chest and trying to give him a hug. Oliver was as still as stone, wide-eyed, perplexed, and completely unsure of how he was supposed to react.

After a few moments, Oliver loosely brought his arms around the sniveling youth, praying this is what he needed to be consoled. The embrace was very stilted, but once Oliver's arms reached around him, Hisashi began to pacify himself.

Oliver let out a huge breath he did not know he was holding.

"I-I-I-I'm s-so s-s-sorry th-that I f-f-forgetted he i-is d-d-d-dead, tha-that's s-so s-s-s-s-sad!" Hisashi blubbered into his shirt.

 _So that's why he was crying._ Not because he raised his voice. Oliver mentally noted that he was very sensitive about death so he could explore it at a later time.

"It's okay, Hisashi. He went to a better place. Please, stop crying," he pleaded gently but urgently. The boy nodded, pulling his face away from the refuge of his shirt. He settled himself back down into his chair, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "O-okay. Can I go back to coloring now?" He sniffled.

Oliver ran a hand slowly through his hair. Quite the rapid attitude change. How do children manage that so damn fast?

He sighed, suddenly feeling very exhausted. "Yes, of course." Hisashi cheered and returned to his original masterpiece. Oliver stood up carefully, realigning his spine as he stood. "Hisashi," he called. "Would you mind if I kept this drawing?" he asked, softly picking up the bizarre sketch Hisashi used to explain his…whatever it was.

"Uh-huh!" he chirped, returning to his artistic state of mind, humming a tune he did not recognize.

"Thank you," Oliver nodded, clipping to his board and swiftly making his way towards the door. He opened the door and stepped outside to make his way to his office, nearly colliding with Lin, who was carrying a steaming cup of tea in the direction of Oliver's office.

"My apologies," Oliver expressed, inclining his head towards the tall Chinese man.

"It's fine," he replied, nodding back. "I thought you might want this when you were done," he said, indicating at the tea cup. His eyes fell towards Oliver's breast pocket. He raised an eyebrow. "What happened to you?" Oliver glanced down. There was a very large tear stain on his shirt, accented by shiny snotty streaks. "Do I want to know?" Oliver straightened his collar and straightened his back to create the façade of dignity.

"It is of no pressing concern," he declared, striding past the man. He heard Lin chuckle under his breath. Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Wait!" a voice called from behind him. It belonged to Hisashi. Oliver sighed and turned his neck to acknowledge him.

"Yes?"

"You forgetted your juice!"

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose as the boy clumsily ran towards him with the juice box.

"Guess you won't be needing this, then," Lin concluded with a smirk, taking a sip of the tea for emphasis.

"What is so amusing?" he demanded, taking the juice from Hisashi with a quick and quiet 'thank you'.

"I don't see you frazzled very often. It's a change of scenery."

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

Once Lin was out of site, he began sipping on the undersized straw in defeat.


End file.
